


Resisting Instinct

by ZephyrElf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fear, Flashbacks, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Post-Recall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Redemption, Torture, Transformation, Vampire Turning, Vampire!Junkrat, other supernaturals as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrElf/pseuds/ZephyrElf
Summary: Jamison Fawkes never wanted to be a vampire.He joined Overwatch seeking refuge and a second chance, but his hopes of redemption are challenged when he meets a woman whose blood sings to him. He doesn't know if he can control himself, and this terrifies him.





	1. Lapse

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This is my first fic, and I hope you like it!

It’s daytime in Ilios. The team was sent here to guard some artifacts from Talon, and Junkrat was stationed near Mei and Roadhog, and were ordered to hold up the defense in their area, to cut off Talon reinforcements. So far, the bright day was uneventful. Junkrat’s biggest enemy at that point was the sunlight. As he patrolled the streets, he was thankful for the heavy layer of soot protecting his skin from the sun. While the sunlight and daytime didn’t light him on fire, or outright kill him, it would quickly leave painful burns and tire him out immensely. He missed the good old days in the outback, where he could wander around under the sun, in the blazing heat, and thrive.

Jamison Fawkes never wanted to be a vampire.

Gunfire erupts in the silence and Junkrat throws himself into a nearby alley for cover. Windows shatter all around and bullets ricochet off the pavement and buildings. Screams fill the air and random passersby collapse onto the concrete. He generally can pay the scent of blood little mind, but one scent catches his attention and in that moment it feels as though time has ground to a halt.

Jamison Fawkes never had a choice in becoming a vampire.

The memory of his turning haunts him, sure, but what haunts him most is the memory of what he did to his only childhood friend in the outback. The memory plays over and over in his mind, paralyzing him at the sight before him on the battlefield; Mei, bleeding from a bullet graze.

He’s worried for her, not because of bleeding out, no, certainly not that, but because of his own urges. He can already feel the front of his jaws ache as his canines elongate into monstrous points.

She smells so good. The sweetest he’s ever smelled. His progenitors spoke every now and then about the rare human that set their senses alight, whose blood practically sang to them. Even without bleeding, Mei’s blood sings to him just like they spoke of, and it takes a good amount of self-restraint every time he sees her to stop himself. He’s felt drawn to her like a parched man to clean water since their first meeting. Right now, with Mei before him, bleeding slowly through her parka sleeve, every fiber of his being is calling out to him to approach her; to lap at and latch onto her grazed arm, and to drink deeply.

While she has never shown anything but disgust and hatred for him, he adores Mei. He took a shine to the small Chinese climatologist from the very beginning. Not just for her blood. Her inventive talent and sharp wit impress and amuse him, and he thinks she’s much prettier than any of those ultra skinny “supermodels” that remind him too much of the starvation of the wasteland. He is utterly terrified of what would happen if he allowed himself to descend on her. Mei is someone he’d rather not kill. She’s someone he’d protect until his cold heart stopped beating.

Steeling his resolve, he brings up his flesh hand and bites down, hard. His mouth fills with his own blood, and the stench and taste help somewhat to clear the scent of Mei’s. The pain helps ground him. It’s enough to shake himself free of the horrific images plaguing his mind, and he hastily starts running and plants a concussion mine, launching himself up onto a rooftop to distance himself from Mei. His legs quake underneath him as he stands up on the roof he landed on, and lines up some shots to take out the Talon goons who hurt Mei.

While he arcs frags behind the enemy lines and expertly takes out hard to reach squads, he silently curses Talon. Well, maybe not so silently. After all, those bloodsuckers were the reason he was like this. Not that he would ever willingly admit that little fact to anyone - not even to Roadhog.

The scent of more blood wafts up to him as he explodes Talon’s thralls into bits and bloody pieces, but this time, he feels nothing but pure, maddening joy. He lets out a wicked cackle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that the carnage and the smell of blood has left him with a raging boner, and a strong desire to consume blood and cause more mayhem.

His haze is interrupted with blinding pain when a sniper shot tears through his torso. There’s now a mangled, gaping hole through his guts, which is bleeding heavily. _That bitch…_

He wheels to face in the direction of who he knows to be Widowmaker, and looses a few frags before the burning pain cripples him and the blood loss tugs at the edges of his consciousness. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips through the pain when he sees that Widowmaker has fled for the moment.

The wound is already healing and replacing the lost flesh, but it's healing much slower than usual, and the copious volume of dark crimson spilled across the white stucco roof is alarming as it slides off in vivid red streams onto the street below. Silver bullet.  _Fuck._ His vision blurs, and he collapses onto the bloodstained, cylindrical roof. He dimly registers that he’s going to be damn thirsty when he comes to, and hopes that Mei isn’t anywhere near him when that happens. The look of horror on her face when they make eye contact, however, tells him that probably won’t be the case, and dread envelopes him as his vision goes dark.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Mei heard Junkrat’s outraged cry of pain and subsequent cursing, followed by the repeated ‘ka-thunk’ of his frag launcher firing.

When she looks up, the sight she sees causes her gut to twist violently. She was worried. Why was she worried? She never liked Junkrat, surely. He was a dirty criminal, a no good bully. Nobody would miss him, right? Seeing him like this, though, on his knees with a gaping hole in his torso, blood pouring out of him and onto the roof and running off, pooling far below onto the pavement only meters from her, worries her immensely.

This is made even worse when she momentarily makes eye contact with the australian bomber. Junkrat’s eyes are wide and fearful. She never thought she would see fear from that maniac, and the fact that it’s there in his eyes tells her that something is terribly wrong. She tries to tell herself that the fear she sees is because he’s dying, but there’s a niggling feeling that it’s fear for something else.

Junkrat collapses fully on to the roof, and Mei is spurred into action. She calls out for help over the comms as she runs up to the building and sets a wall beneath her to push her up. She can just barely reach the edge of the roof, and catches Junkrat’s unconscious body just as it slides off the now slick stucco. She steps off her ice wall on to the second floor of the building and carries the mad bomber down the building and into an abandoned alley. Dead Talon agents are scattered about, some missing limbs from Junkrat’s explosives. The sight disturbs her, but she can’t bring herself to focus on them, too focused on her mission of saving Junkrat.

She lays down Junkrat’s body in a quiet, dark place, and is rummaging through her gear for some first aid gear when she realizes that that’s probably not going to help his situation.

That’s when she notices something. He’s stopped bleeding, and the hole is shrinking before her eyes. It’s not anywhere near done replacing the lost flesh, but it’s definitely improved from just minutes before. Maybe the radiation of the wasteland improved his rate of healing?

As she was thinking this, a low groan sounded from the man. His voice isn’t usually this low, she thinks, and if Junkrat weren’t in a life or death situation, she might have been more intrigued. She studies his face, and notices something strange about his slightly opened mouth; his canines looked dangerously sharp, and just slightly larger than what’s average for humans. She’d never paid much attention to his mouth before. Perhaps this is another mutation caused by the radiation in the outback? Still, it’s strange….

His eyes open slowly, the piercing amber of his eyes unusually dull and glassy, and he stares with a deadpan gaze straight ahead at the wall in front of him. He makes a small sniff, and his eyes widen and brighten noticeably, losing the faraway look they had prior. A strangled cry escapes his throat this time, and the unsettling look of fear returns to his eyes as he makes eye contact with Mei.

“...Mei… no... stay away….” Junkrat whimpers. He’s no longer still, but rather, he’s shaking like a leaf.

“Junkrat, what are you talking about? You’re seriously injured!”

“M-Mei, ya don’t understand,” he said, his chest was heaving at this point, and he was obviously panicking. He stares wide eyed at Mei as if he’s deathly afraid of hurting her. Maybe that’s not far off, based on what he’s saying. But why would he be saying those things? Despite her hate for him, he had never actually taken any malicious actions against her. 

Junkrat isn’t able to finish his sentence before he heaves himself forward between his knees, with his mechanical hand clawing harshly around his thin throat, and his flesh hand digging fingernails into his thigh to the point of drawing blood. He’s panting very hard now and sweat is rolling pale trails through the soot on his head and body. Mei swears she can see his canines grow even longer than they were before, and he lets out a wail of pain.

“Please, darl… Hurry….” Junkrat grounds out in between labored breaths.

She backs up just a little bit, concerned. “Junkrat, what’s-”

The rumbling sound of Roadhog’s heavy steps interrupt Mei’s question. He rounds the corner to the alley.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” the beast of a man bellows at her, and for a moment she feels like she’s rooted to the spot. He thunders down the alley. “NOW!!” he says as he pushes her out of the way, behind him.

She doesn’t understand Roadhog’s urgency, but scrambles to get up and run anyway. It scares her to see the usually calm and quiet Roadhog in a panic. She looks back, curious to see why, and the sight she sees chills her to the bone.

Junkrat is on his feet, his fangs even longer than before, and with a roar he lunges forward like a wild animal to try and get past Roadhog. Roadhog catches him fast, and he flails and thrashes in the mountain of a man’s arms. The usual bright amber of Junkrat’s eyes is replaced by a disturbing shade of red.

Mei ran faster than she had ever run before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in one afternoon in a flash of inspiration. This will probably be multi-chapter, but I don't know how long it'll end up being, and I can't promise regular updates, but I love this so far and even if updates aren't regular, I'll update whenever I can.
> 
> I'm open to suggestions on how to improve my writing, just please be nice!


	2. Food for Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako let out a tired sigh. As he watched his charge take slow, calming breaths before him, still not yet entirely there, he thought back on the day he learned that Junkrat wasn’t human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! This chapter turned out much longer than I anticipated, but I like the result and I hope you all do too. 
> 
> The time skip in this chapter bounces around between Junkrat and Roadhog's points of view, but I hope it isn't too confusing.  
> A warning: this chapter contains a lot of blood and violence.

Once Mei was gone, Roadhog shifted the raging junker in his arms so that he had him in a chokehold in one hand, and with his now freed up hand, grabbed a dying Talon agent and brought it up to the crazed vampire’s mouth. Jamison didn’t even bother tearing away the fabric around the Talon agent’s neck before sinking his fangs in. Soon the agent was limp and dessicated, and Junkrat’s eyes had returned to a more normal shade. The hole in Junkrat’s torso wasn’t closing any faster, though; it was still proceeding at what Roadhog recognized was abnormally slow for the younger Junker. While it was alarming for Mako, he breathed a sigh of relief because it meant he could more easily pass him off as human to Mercy when she would no doubt arrive. He would tell her that he gave Junkrat some hogdrogen to treat the initial trauma. That Talon sniper-- what was her name? Widowmaker? She must have shot Junkrat with a silver bullet.

Junkrat hadn’t mentioned any prior interactions with Talon, but somehow they knew he was a vampire. That Talon knew he was a vampire, and that Jamie avoided talking about his first experiences as a vampire, led him to suspect that Talon might have been involved in turning Jamie into a monster, but he also thought he might be reading too much into the situation. There could be vampire hunters among Talon’s ranks, or Talon could just be really good at obtaining information.

Mako let out a tired sigh. As he watched his charge take slow, calming breaths before him, still not yet entirely there, he thought back on the day he learned that Junkrat wasn’t human.

Not long after being hired by the scrawny man known as Junkrat, Mako learned that he was in for more than he bargained for. His main priority, he thought, was defending the scrawny man from others. What he didn’t realize was that the job had a second, perhaps more important objective; defending others from Junkrat, and concealing his inhuman tendencies.

Before he met Jamison Fawkes, the larger junker never believed in the old horror stories he’d heard so long ago. They were myths to him. Interesting food for thought, but nothing more. As a result, initially Roadhog shrugged off a lot of his boss’s strange behavior. Like how the smaller Junker rarely ate (When he did eat, he could be heard out of sight later retching and throwing it back up. Nausea and loss of appetite were unfortunately common due to the radiation. Mako always pretended he never heard it.), or how he insisted that they try to travel mostly at night, or how he would become more manic than usual when blood was spilled.

The first time Roadhog witnessed Junkrat lose it completely came as a shock to the larger junker. Junkrat was by no means the most stable on a regular basis, but that was something else entirely. That was the day he started thinking thinking that those horror myths from his youth weren’t really myths.

 

* * *

\-  Two years earlier -

* * *

 

Roadhog had been employed by Junkrat for almost two weeks. The two of them had traveled a long ways away from Junkertown since their meeting.

They were in a bar in a little shit town in the outback, and the place was deserted save for the bartender and a handful of patrons scattered about. A group of four junker ruffians came in and demanded that Junkrat be handed over, or else things would get violent. While Roadhog felt certain that he could easily beat them up in a bar fight, and might even enjoy it, he didn’t feel like making a scene. Junkrat had tensed up beside him.

He grunted to get Junkrat’s attention. “Outside,” he muttered to Junkrat in a low and quiet voice. They had done this song and dance a few times now, and Junkrat got the message.

The younger junker wheeled around on his bar stool to face the new men. “Oi, you blokes mentioned you were lookin’ fa Junkrat?” He was playing it casual.

The supposed leader stepped forward with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he spoke. “Ya know ‘im?”

The outback was a big place, and with no printers around, there wasn’t a good way of posting wanted signs without hand drawing each one. Word of mouth was what most people relied on. Describing Junkrat as a tall, dirt covered, scrawny man missing patches of hair and two limbs was like describing a brown haired man with brown eyes in the wasteland; there were many people who fit the description. And heck, that description wasn’t even entirely accurate anymore. The scrawny man beside him had a full head of hair. Roadhog allowed himself to silently marvel at that fact, because the radiation tended to leave people with bald spots, and Junkrat had supposedly exposed himself to some pretty bad radiation when he went digging around in the omnium where he found his treasure. At any rate, they were lucky that the group didn’t seem to recognize him.

“Yeah, he left just a bit ago. I could help you find ‘im. Think I have an idea which way that drongo went.” Junkrat funneled his fidgeting into calmly picking at the flaking paint on his nails. He would need to repaint them later.

The group looked wary as they considered his offer. There was some whispering amongst the group, before the leader spoke again. “How do we know you’re not leadin’ us into a trap?”

“Mate, I’m just one bloke. I don’t want any trouble.” He put his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

The leader strode up and loomed over Junkrat with a knife. “Show us. If you try anything, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Orroight, mate, take it easy.” He turns to his large bodyguard. “Mate, I’ll be right back.” Mako offers a grunt in affirmation. He’ll follow them on a different route to make sure his charge stays safe.

Junkrat gets up and the leader puts a hand on the smaller junker’s back to push him out the door. The leader grimaces a little bit, and Roadhog has an idea of why; Junkrat’s temperature was unusually cold. Roadhog had brought it up as a concern but Junkrat had brushed it off, saying that he felt completely fine, and not to worry. The group trudged out the front door of the bar.

Mako waits until they’re out of earshot, and then asks the bartender if there’s a backdoor he can use. The bartender, having witnessed all of this, agrees to let the large man go after his friend.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Junkrat allowed himself to be led calmly back out into the blinding sun by the group. It felt uncomfortably hot on his skin, and his sensitive eyes hurt as they adjusted to the bright light. He and Roadhog had spotted a scrapyard not too far behind the bar that he wanted to scavenge, and so he used that idea. “Roight, so, last I remembah, the bloke said he was gonna go scavenging for scrap in one of the local yards. Dunno which one exactly, but if I think there was one behind the pub.”

“There is indeed a scrapheap behind the pub.” The leader said. “But there’s no guarantee he’s there, so you’re gonna come with us while we search each junkyard. To make sure you’re true to ya word.”

They start walking to the small junkyard behind the bar through an alley, and Junkrat speaks up again. “Mate, I’m just goin’ offa what he said. He mighta been lyin’ ta me, and he may not be there at all because of it. I could have been mislead so I’d serve as a diversion.”

“Whatever, ya drongo.”

They walk in silence the rest of the way, and the leader orders one of his men to keep watch over the lanky junker while they search the scrap heap. The watchdog sits down a little ways from Junkrat, and observes him with disinterest.

After watching them search for a while, he hears one of them suddenly curse aloud. Someone must have slipped and hurt themselves on scrap. Junkrat is about to pay it no mind until the smell of fresh blood fills his nose.

The growing urges he’s been ignoring and shoving down for the past week come back full force, hitting him like a truck. His canines rapidly lengthen, and he can already taste the venom seeping out of them. He wants blood, and he wants it now.

He doesn’t remember approaching his watchdog, though it seems he’s hardly noticed Junkrat, as he’s been staring off in the direction of his injured friend. Junkrat forces the man’s head to the side with strong, wiry arms to expose his neck, and bites down. Blood fills his mouth and he drinks greedily after having starved himself for so long. The man screams and struggles, but soon loses his will to fight due to the venom and blood loss. The screams devolve into desperate moans, the fear from earlier nearly gone.

As he gorges himself on the man’s blood, he can’t help but feel like he needs more. More, more, he desperately needs _more._ A haze of bloodlust settles over Junkrat and if he had any self-control before, it was now all gone. He wouldn’t stop until he drank his fill. Maybe not even then. Perhaps he wouldn’t stop until he drained everyone in the immediate vicinity.

The three men who were in the junkyard heard the guard’s scream and came running from around a pile of scrap.

“What the bloody fuck?!” one of them shouted. The leader screamed out, “Kill that fucker!”

Three of them rushed him at once.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Roadhog watched all of this play out, rooted to the spot behind his pile of scrap in a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. He didn’t dare interfere, not yet, not after he had seen his boss so easily overpower a man with more bulk and… sink fangs into his neck? He didn’t know what for until he saw the man lose the color to his flesh, and shrivel up slightly. Junkrat was drinking his blood?

When he dropped his victim like a sack of potatoes and opened his eyes to the men who ran up in front of him, there was a deranged smile on Junkrat’s face and his eyes shone with a blood red color instead of his usual fiery amber. He launched himself forward at an unbelievable speed, and in just an instant he had roundhouse kicked one of the three men across the face with his boot and sent him sprawling to the ground, and in another instant, he drove his elbow into the second man with a sickening crack. Junkrat probably broke a few of the man’s ribs. He proceeded to take the man’s head in his mechanical hand and slam it down into the ground before turning his attention to the third man, the leader, who was charging at him for a tackle. Junkrat sidestepped and re-positioned himself behind the man so quickly it looked as though he might have teleported. The leader wasn’t able to do much except for flail as Junkrat locked his arms around him.

Roadhog was admittedly impressed by the carnage his charge was apparently capable of, even without his infamous explosives. It sent the blood in his body pumping just a little faster.

The lanky junker sunk his fangs into the man’s neck and the man let out a yelp, and started going limp in his grip. A strangely pleasured look graces the man’s face and several moans and incoherent babbles leave his mouth. The first man, the one who was kicked in the face, gets up with a roar and drives a knife into Junkrat’s right flank. Junkrat releases his prey in annoyance, and the man falls bonelessly into the dirt with lust written all over his features. The lanky junker then spins and punches the man across his face, hard, with his flesh hand, and the man falls back onto the ground again. Junkrat stands to his full intimidating height with a menacing grin displaying all his teeth. Most of the teeth have sharpened into points, but his canines are much longer than the rest. Blood stains his teeth and smears across his cheeks and drips off his chin and down his front. He reaches up with his mechanical hand and rips the knife out of his side without so much as flinching.

“WhAt thE fUcK?!?!” the man’s voice breaks as he screams out the question. He scrambles across the ground, backing up as Junkrat walks in an unnervingly calm and silent manner towards his terrified prey.

BANG!

Junkrat’s head slumps forward in a spray of red.

Well, so much for being this man’s bodyguard, Roadhog thought to himself.

After a long, tense moment of Junkrat standing stock still with his head down, blood spilling from it onto the ground, he whips his head back and begins cackling madly with his arms wrapped around his torso as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. His eyes are back to their normal, flaming amber. The hole in his forehead, which has left his face drenched in red, closes itself up rapidly, as though it were never there.

Roadhog doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Junkrat didn’t die from a gunshot to head. Guess he’s got a job again. He’s not entirely sure if he wants it anymore.

Still laughing, he turns around to face his shooter. “Mate, ta fa that! Really needed somethin’ to cleah me head! WAHAHAHA! Get it?!”

The man holding the gun blanches. “Who are you? _What_ are you?!” he asks shakily as his trembling hands hold the gun tighter, as if trying to convince himself that it can still save him.

Junkrat’s mad laughter quiets into giggles as he casually wipes his mouth with his flesh hand. “I’m Junkrat. The one yas were lookin’ fa. As fa what I am, well,” his cheer dissipated and his face set into a harsh scowl as he lowered himself into a more predatory stance, ready to spring. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you since you won’t be alive much longer.”

He pounces on the man before he can react, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head. The gun clatters into the dirt. “I’m a vampire,” he snarls hatefully, before tearing into the man’s throat.

The first man, the one who was both kicked and punched in the face, finally gets his wits about him and scrambles up to sprint away. Now that Junkrat had spilled that sensitive information, there was no way he as his bodyguard could allow any of them to live. Time to reveal his presence. Roadhog readies his hook and lines up his shot, and then casts the line. The metal chain glints in the sunlight and sings its arrival in gentle clinks as the hook finds its home around the escaping man’s waist. With a harsh tug the man is dragged in front of him and he secures the man by his throat with a giant hand. He would do this much for Junkrat, but he would definitely need an explanation from the lanky junker later.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Rat.”

Junkrat takes a long drink and then lets out a content sigh. He gets up off the dessicated corpse, and turns to face Roadhog. The pleasant haze from his feeding quickly turns to fear. Shit. He hadn’t told Roadie yet. He honestly hadn’t planned on telling him anytime soon, because he was ashamed of it, but he mentally kicked himself. Of course he’d figure it out eventually. He tries to reply calmly, but the lump that’s seemed to form in his throat makes his voice crack. “Yeah mate?”

“You have a lot of explaining to do. But let’s clean all this up first.” He thrusts the man in his hand toward Junkrat, and drops him. He was already full after finishing off two and a half men, but the smell and taste of blood was still enticing and the prospect of going for a longer period of time without having to feed again pushed him forward.

“Sure.” Junkrat said as he took the man in his arms. The man’s back is to him and Junkrat quickly places his mechanical hand over the man’s mouth to muffle his screaming, and tilts his head to the side to access his neck. He closes his eyes and bites in, and though he’s resolved to drink every last drop, he can’t enjoy his meal because of the guilt that has crept up his spine for hiding something so important from Roadie. Would he quit because of this?

The thought of being alone again sent a shiver through him as he removed his fangs from the limp man.

“I’m gonna go finish off that last one, I wasn’t done with ‘im. Wouldn’t want anything to go to waste.”

He felt Roadhog’s eyes watching him through the emotionless black lenses of his pig mask. Junkrat hadn’t been with his bodyguard long enough yet to read him well. He felt uncomfortably exposed as he knelt over the last man, the one he had been drinking from when he was stabbed. The man’s breathing is ragged, and when his lust-glazed eyes make contact with Junkrat’s, the man palms himself over his pants and lets out a moan. Junkrat cringed at the display. Why does his venom have to leave people in this state? He supposes it is rather convenient, as it prevents them from running away, and it keeps them from being in pain, but something about it rubs him the wrong way. They could be taken advantage of so easily, even if they didn’t want to. Junkrat may be a murderer out of necessity, but he is not a rapist, and despite being opportunistic, he feels disgusted at the thought of taking advantage of someone like that. He feels disgusted at drinking blood, too, but he can’t do anything about that if he doesn’t want to starve and go more insane.

He latches onto the bite wound from earlier and drains the man quickly, trying not to think about the strained last breath and tired beat of his heart as he perished in his arms.

Junkrat closes the man’s dead eyes so he doesn’t have to look at them, and leans back onto his feet, but is hunched over, old memories weighing him down. He feels defeated, even though this is the most full and therefore the most alive he’s felt in weeks. It would probably last him a good while before he has to feed again. “He’s dead,” he says simply, before slowly rising to his feet. The image of his childhood friend dead in a bloody pool on the ground flashes through his mind at the sight of the body beneath him. The memory was still far too fresh for him, having happened not even three months ago.

He can’t shake the image, and it unfolds around him until it encompases him. The scene in that torture room plays over and over in his mind. It’s all he can see. At some point he feels someone put a hand on his shoulder, and shake him gently. It’s enough to free him from the memory. As he comes back to the present, his vision is blurry. He doesn’t know when he started crying. Another wave of shame burns through him at this, because It isn’t smart to show any kind of weakness in the wasteland. He turns to look at Roadhog through bleary eyes. “I’m sorry ya had to see that, mate.”

The big man snorts in response and draws him in for a hug. Jamison melts into his embrace, and Mako allows this to continue until Junkrat is done. Mako idly notes that Junkrat has regained some color in his skin, and that he’s warmed up to an almost human temperature.

Once Jamison feels calm enough, he separates from his massive bodyguard. “Let’s go get rid of those bodies and get out of here, and then I’ll give ya that explanation ya wanted.” Jamison says.

The larger man hands him his grenade launcher. Roadhog had held on to it for him when he was escorted out of the bar by the group. He takes it, and makes sure it’s loaded, before going around and looting the bodies. He fires frags at each body scattered around. While the obvious signs of explosions may give away that Junkrat was here, it would at least hide the truth about what he was.

After making sure that the bodies were sufficiently ruined, Junkrat used some cloth he had taken off the bodies and wiped as much of the blood off of himself as he could. The two of them took off with their spoils, and the ride on Roadhog’s chopper was quiet save for the roar of the engine. Eventually they found a good spot and set up camp for the night, and catch some lizards to cook.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Around the campfire while Roadhog is eating is when Junkrat finally speaks up. “So, uh, that explanation.”

Roadhog continues chewing on a mouthful of lizard while he watches the man fidget and squirm.

“Well, dunno if ya heard it when I said it, but I’m a vampire.” The silence Roadhog gives Junkrat in response is enough to get him to continue filling it with words. “I need to drink blood to stay sane and alive, but I don’t like doin’ it, and I don’t like people figuring it out and knowin’ that I’m a bloodsucker.” Nervous eyes meet his own. “People tend to either run away or come at me with pitchforks and torches when they find out. Worse than that is if professional monster hunters catch on to me.”

Junkrat bites his lip before continuing. “It was stupid of me to try and hide it from you, though. It was only a matter of time before me thirst would win out and I’d lose meself like I did back there, and ruin everythin’.” Junkrat took a deep breath before continuing cautiously. “Oi can usually push back me urges, even if I’m starving, but that all becomes much harder once fresh blood is spilled.” He shivers after that statement. “I’m scared of bein’ found out, so I stop meself from feedin’, until I lose meself to bloodlust. Ain’t that a paradox?” Junkrat follows the question with a nervous laugh.

Some part of that last statement clued Roadhog in that Junkrat was hiding something; he was scared of more than just being found out. Roadhog is silent for a long moment before speaking up.

“Why did you hire me?”

Why indeed. Junkrat had been telling himself that it was just for protection from bounty, treasure, and monster hunters, but he knew deep down that it was more than that. He knew that Roadhog didn’t want to hear that half-truth again. He clears his throat before answering.

“Vampires are strong and resilient, as you saw back there. While I probably am strong enough to travel on my own, I thought it may look a might suspicious if one scrawny guy can clear out a group of, say, four burly junkers on his own. You’re big and intimidatin’, and travelin’ with you helps make the trail of violence we leave behind a little more believable. Therefore!” He points a finger up at the sky, “It helps hide what I am." He slumps down in sheepishly as he continues, "I also figured that a big guy like you would be able to hold me back if I ever went on a rampage. And… I also figured that if I did go on a rampage, and happened to latch on to you, that you would have a pretty good shot at survivin’, since you’re so big…” Junkrat begins looking anywhere but at Roadhog as he nervously taps his index fingers together. His fingers stop their movement as a realization hits him and he looks, wide-eyed, at the black lenses of the mask. “But I wasn’t _plannin_ ’ on feeding from you or nuthin’! Not unless you were okay with it!” He throws his hands up in submissive gestures as he blurts this out, and there’s a trace of hope in his wide, amber eyes.

The larger junker is quiet as he thinks. Was he asking for permission to feed from him? He was curious as to what that would be like, but didn’t want to give the green light until he knew what he would be getting himself into. When he speaks, his words are slow and careful.

“If I were to let you feed from me, in order to tide you over so that you don’t go on rampages, what kinds of things should I expect? Those guys you bit started actin’ weird.”

Junkrat was taken aback by this response. Roadhog was seriously considering this? He wasn’t angry? Junkrat cleared his throat. “As Oi understand it, me fangs secrete venom. It makes me prey stop resisting by blocking out the pain of the bite, and, umm…”

Roadhog motions with his hand for Junkrat to continue. He takes a shaky breath, embarrassment painting his face red.

“It, uh, seems to make them horny to the point where they can’t think of anything else.” He laughs awkwardly for a moment before amending his statement. “I haven’t ever taken advantage of that state, though. Somethin’ about it just rubs me wrong. Like, hell, they didn’t agree to be forced into that state in the first place.” He mutters the next part under his breath, probably half-hoping that Roadhog wouldn’t hear him. He did. “Though if they did agree to be bit, and wanted me to take care of them while they’re like that, I probably wouldn’t say no…”

Before Roadhog can consider this unexpected proposition, Junkrat fills the silent void once more, throwing his hands in the air. “I heard that it’s possible to bite someone without releasing any venom!” Junkrat drops his hands, and then brings his flesh hand up again to card it through his hair as he continues, thoughtful. “I haven’t figured out how yet, though. I’m still pretty new to this.” He ended the statement with a shrug.

“How new?” Roadhog asked.

“Well, um, I’m guessin’ I’ve been like this for about three months, but it’s hard to tell out here sometimes since the days can tend to blur together. You know how it is.” Junkrat scratched at the back of his head as he gave his answer.

“What happened?” Roadhog realized he was probably digging too deeply into the matter, but damn it if he wasn’t curious to know everything about his charge’s condition now.

Junkrat drew his knees up to his chest and nestled his chin on top of them. “Mate, I think I’d rather not talk about that roight now.”

Roadhog lets out a sigh, and then tries to save the situation by rephrasing the question into something else. “I meant, how does one become a vampire? If I let you feed from me, will I be at risk of turning into one?”

Junkrat relaxes a little, grateful to not have to go through his traumatic experience in depth, and puts a smile on his face. “Nah, mate. From what oi remembah, that requires either a real powerful vamp, or an extra step. After being drained nearly dry-- or was it completely dry? Or maybe the vamp’s venom just has to be in their bloodstream? Either way, a less powerful vampire who bites you has to feed you back some of their own blood to make you turn into a vampire or a ghoul. Vampire if you’re a virgin, ghoul if you’re not.” Junkrat freezes in his laid back pose for a moment, his face drawn in shock and burning up at the realization that he practically just admitted he was a virgin. Roadhog evidently saw this and let out a chuckle. “Anyway, mate, it won’t ever happen on its own, unless the vampire is mighty powerful. Then all it takes is their venom in your system. I doubt I’m powerful enough for that, but I’ve never stuck around long enough to find out if my victims change.”

“Well, next one that comes along, we’ll haul him or her with us until we have an answer. I’m not letting you bite me until you can either control your venom or guarantee that you won’t accidentally turn me. And what’s a ghoul?” Roadhog didn’t want to admit anything about the status of his virginity to Junkrat, but he was curious to know more about all of this.

“Ghouls… I’ve seen a few. They’re like empty shells that mindlessly follow commands. They’re stronger than humans, but weaker than vampires, and they can be pretty slow. They seem to have a hard time forming coherent words. They can drink blood like vampires, but it seems they like eating flesh more. Their bites turn their victims into ghouls, and things can get out of hand if you let a ghoul wander on its own. Sunlight don’t kill ‘em, but they seem to prefer night and cloudy days over the sun.

“Their existence may sound pretty dismal, like, why would anyone evah be okay with bein' a ghoul? But it’s not the end of the world. I knew one ghoul who was practically at the same level as the otha vampires around. The Sheila's master kept feeding her his blood until she could think and speak for herself again and move with the same speed and grace as a vampire. If she got any of her emotions back, though, she sure as shit didn’t show it. Cold bitch.” He folds his arms sourly, but then eyes Roadhog curiously. “You thinking you’d turn into a ghoul?”

“Whether I’d turn into a vampire or a ghoul is none of your business. Not unless it happens. Then it’ll become your business,” Roadhog asserted. He knew what he would become if he were turned; he would be a ghoul. While he hadn’t shared any intimate contact with anyone since the omnium blew, he’d had a wife and a little girl before. When he had finally gotten back to check on his old farm house after the explosion, he found his wife, dead, and his girl missing. He traveled around from town to town, camp to camp, all over the outback searching for her, but she never turned up. He hoped she got a ride to one of the big cities, far away from this nightmare. She would probably have been about the same age as Junkrat. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he decided to be Junkrat’s bodyguard in the first place.

Silence settles around the campfire as Roadhog dwells on these thoughts.

“So… you’re not leavin’?”

“No.”

Junkrat was confused by the answer, and when Roadhog doesn’t elaborate, he vocalizes his confusion. “Whot? Why not?”

He lets out a deep, rumbling sigh. “Why would I? Rat, with everything you’ve just told me, I doubt you’d let me live if I left.” He crosses his arms and continues. “I had my doubts about my usefulness to you when you easily overpowered those men and didn’t even flinch at your injuries, but somehow you’ve convinced me that my services are still needed. And don’t think that I haven’t forgotten about our deal to split the treasure, and any future spoils, 50-50.” He left out the part about his guilt at not being able to protect and care for his own family, and his desire to atone by protecting and caring for Junkrat.

Junkrat chuckles at this. “Ya got some good points, there, mate.” He quiets down again before asking Roadhog another question that’s been on his mind. “Say, ya weren’t seriously considerin’ lettin’ me bite ya, were ya?”

Roadhog gives an annoyed sigh this time. “My job of protecting you includes protecting you from yourself. If possible, I’d rather feed you some other poor fuckers, especially until we figure out about any long lasting effects from your bite. Until then, if we end up in a situation where it’s only us and you’re hungry, I’ll allow you to have some of my blood in order to keep you ‘sane and alive’ until we can secure you a better meal. I’ll do so by cutting myself and letting it drip into your mouth, but I’m not letting you bite until we know any better.”

“Ta, mate.” Junkrat was sheepish and shy as he offered his thanks.

Another bout of silence settles around the camp. To Junkrat’s surprise, Roadhog breaks the silence first.

“How come you’re able to walk around in the day? I thought sunlight kills vampires?”

“Mate, I was just as confused as you are on that one. The ones who turned me told me that it would kill me, too. The sun still bothers me more than it used to when I was human, but so far it hasn’t been anythin’ more than an annoyance. Think they mentioned somethin’ about each vampire being unique, so maybe that’s why.”

“Unique?”

“Yeah, uh, like, gainin’ powers that are based on your personality or previous experiences. I’ve always been ratha’ interested in fire and chemicals and explosives, and I think it’s fair to say that me personality _is_ rather broight and _explosive._ Plus, I’d been livin’ under the harsh outback sun for so long, I’d gotten used to it! The sun ain’t killin’ me like it should, and fire and me own explosives don’t seem to hurt me anymore, either. Shit, mate, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if I started gainin’ magic fire powers!”

Roadhog snorts in amusement. “Does havin’ a full head of hair also have something to do with bein’ resistant to fire? Or is that just a vampire thing? You don’t match your wanted posters anymore.”

Junkrat scratched his chin in thought. “Sure don’t. It’s prolly both. Since being turned, I’ve been seein’ old scars disappearin’ left and right, and the effects of the chronic radiation sickness have all but gone away. Me hair started growing back in pretty soon after the symptoms of radiation sickness started leavin’. It can still catch on fire, and it does pretty often, but being on fire don’t seem to actually damage me hair. Me healing also fixed me hearing. Had some deafness and some pretty bad tinnitus from me explosives. Me hearing took a jump up when I was turned, but the ringing wasn't gone yet. Over time it went away and me hearing got even better because of it! Now I get to hear me explosives in all their glory at full volume," he ends dreamily. "Much as the healing can fix old injuries, though, seems it can’t regenerate limbs lost before being turned. Anything I lose now, however, can be re-attached and it’ll be just fine, provided the bits I lost haven’t been destroyed or coated in holy water. I could even put me head back on if it got chopped off and I’d be fine!”

“You sound pretty fuckin’ indestructible. Sunlight and fire don’t do much against you. You took a bullet in the head, and laughed it off like nothing. Is there anything that _can_ kill you? Anything at all that I should be worried about as your bodyguard?”

“Silver hurts like a bitch. Sears the flesh it touches, and the wounds it causes won’t heal until contact with the metal is lost, and even then, those wounds heal much more slowly than other wounds. Something important to mention about any wound, though, is that the rate of healing depends on the amount of blood available in the body. With a major wound, a lot of blood is lost, and so it takes longer heal the wound. Losing blood also creates a need to replace it. Even if I gorge meself on blood beforehand, I could enter a blood-starved frenzy a moment later if I lose enough of it due to a serious injury. When I enter a frenzy, I can’t control meself. Everything becomes instinct, and I have a hard time distinguishing friend from foe. I can get clumsy and predictable, by seeking out the nearest blood source and ignoring everything else. If I’m up against people who don’t know what they’re doing, this generally isn’t a problem, but up against professional hunters, things can get pretty dangerous. One stake through me heart is all it takes to render me useless. Doesn’t kill me outright, but it sure makes it easier to do so. Fortunately, once a stake is removed, I’m able to move around again. ‘Sides from sunlight and silver, there are three other things I know that kill vamps. The first is chopping off their heads and dousing the cut ends in holy water. Holy water on its own burns like acid and slows healing, but won’t kill. The second way doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but apparently submersion in running water makes quick work of vampires. I figure I’m fucked if I end up in water anyway, vampire or not, because of these.” He waves his prosthetics briefly. “The last one is death by fire, which like the sun, I’m fortunately not damaged by.”

Roadhog gives another amused snort, before getting up from his spot at the campfire. “That’s good to hear. It’s getting late now, though. We should probably rest for the night, but one of us should keep watch. How are you on sleep?” He had many more question, but sleepiness was beginning to settle into his bones.

“I don’t need sleep anymore, mate. I could sleep if I wanted to, and it does feel nice, but I haven’t felt the drag of sleep deprivation since I changed. I can keep watch for us, Roadhog.”

“Mako.”

“What?”

“M’name’s Mako. Mako Rutledge.” The true names of junkers were typically well-guarded secrets. They were often times the last reminders of a time before everything went to shit. The last good memories. Junkers often didn’t want those memories soiled by others who would use their true names as emotional leverage against them, and so kept them secret. As a result, names were only shared between close individuals with a lot of trust. Roadhog knew he wouldn’t be leaving the younger man alone anytime soon, and figured it best to establish trust with Junkrat as soon as possible. If not for an easy working relationship with his boss, then for the safety of his neck while he slept.

A genuine smile graces Junkrat’s angular face. It's the first time Mako has seen this smile. He hopes it isn't the last. “Mako. I like that name, mate. I’m Jamison Fawkes, but you can also call me Jamie if you prefer.”

Mako thought Jamison's nickname was endearing. “Alright, Jamie. I’m goin’ to bed. See ya in the mornin’.” Mako gets out his bedroll and lays it out. As he gets in, he speaks once more before he falls asleep. “Night, Jamie.”

“G’night, Mako, mate.”

Jamie wears a warm smile as he keeps watch over the camp and the fire’s dying flames and embers. Mako’s breathing is slow and deep, and as he watches the older man sleep, he realizes that he feels safe and loved in a way he hadn’t felt since his parents were around.

He is finally home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably be able to update frequently until the 24th of January, since that's when college starts back up again for me. 
> 
> I like writing vampire Junkrat so far. If he seems out of character, though, or if I'm messing up the accent, let me know how I can do better. I really want to do Junkrat justice. If you think I'm doing great, that would be good to know too! :D


	3. Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei tries to take her mind off of things, Roadhog has a talk, Talon toasts an unexpected victory, and Mercy makes some observations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Shorter than the last, but longer than the first. Enjoy!

Mei ran and ran away from the alley where she had seen that nightmarish version of Junkrat. She wasn’t watching where she was running, and ran straight into Winston.

“Mei!” Winston exclaims in surprise.

“Ah! Winston!” she exclaims in equal surprise.

“What’s with the hurry? Are you alright? Where are Junkrat and Roadhog?” He asks the small climatologist as he checks all over her. 

She wasn’t sure if it was okay to tell Winston the truth about what she had seen. Junkrat’s actions didn’t make any sense to her, but one thing was rather clear to her from both Junkrat and Roadhog’s actions and tones of voice; she wasn’t supposed to have seen whatever it was she saw. So she told a white lie, even though she hates lying, because despite her dislike of the two, she wasn’t ready to throw her teammates under the bus just yet.

“Talon agents opened fire on us, and I got hit on my arm. Junkrat and I were falling back when a sniper got him. That’s when I called out for help on the coms. I wanted to get him out of the line of fire, so I moved him into an alleyway. I couldn’t do much to help him past that point, and that’s when Roadhog got there. He told me he would be able to help Junkrat until Mercy got there, and asked me to retreat. I kept on running even when the guns all went silent, and didn’t realize it until I bumped into you, I was so shell-shocked by seeing Junkrat’s injury.”

Winston seemed convinced. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe. We’ll get your arm treated soon enough, though it sounds like Junkrat needs the most medical attention at the moment. Mercy took off to their location just before you arrived.” The gorilla grumbled a little bit, and then went on. “Those two think they can always handle things on their own. I probably should give them a little more credit, since they were doing fine on their own before, but they need to start learning to work more with the rest of the team. I’ll have to have another talk with them after they recover. And next time they tell you to run, don’t listen. Stick by them, because you’re really good with defense. While you weren’t originally trained as a soldier, I know that you can hold your own.”

“Alright. Thank you, Winston.” She wasn’t sure if she would follow Winston’s advice about not fleeing next time. Based on Junkrat and Roadhog’s insistence, and what she had seen, it was for good reason. Mei surveyed her surroundings. “Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime?” She wanted to keep herself occupied to keep the junkers off her mind.

He adjusted his glasses on his nose and “It seems like Talon is withdrawing for now, and with Junkrat’s injuries, we should try to get back to Gibraltar as soon as possible. We could start packing up. If you wouldn’t mind moving equipment back on the ship, I could use some help. It’s also good to have another set of eyes in case they’re gearing up to jump us again.”

She forced a smile. “Happy to help.”

The two of them start pack quickly, and before long, Mercy and Roadhog arrive back to the ship with a slightly less wounded Junkrat. Roadhog carries him in his arms with Mercy using her Caduceus staff the whole while. Junkrat was hissing and groaning in pain. After Mercy and Junkrat are squared away in the ship’s small medibay, Roadhog comes back out and helps finish packing. The rest of the team files in while this happens, and the group takes off soon after everyone is gathered and the transport is packed. The time Mei has been dreading arrives; the long ride back with nothing to do but think. She paces around the ship after take off. There were a lot of things to plague her mind. Most of them at the moment were named Junkrat and Roadhog.

She sighed to herself. She hated calling the australians by those names. She knew their real names. Everyone on the team did. Their wanted posters and debuts on news channels had revealed their names to the whole world. Upon joining Overwatch, though, they refused to be called anything other than their strange nicknames. They even made a point of asking Winston to erase their real names from Athena’s files on them, and to ask the rest of the team to refer to them as only Junkrat and Roadhog.

Mei never really gave much thought to Roadhog’s moniker, but was always a little disgruntled by the name Junkrat. Why would he demean himself like that? Why would he insist on being called junk, like he was disposable? Or being called a rat? She used to think he was a no good bully, nothing more than an uncontrollable terrorist, and a cold part of herself agreed that the name fit a piece of scum like him, but at the same time, she wondered how anyone could be proud of such a dehumanizing nickname.

Did she still think of him as a no good bully? He’d teased her when they’d see each other, he never seemed upset when she lashed back at him. He had comebacks every now and then, but they weren’t hurtful, and he’d laugh it off and leave her alone. He teased, but never caused harm. She was so mean to him in comparison. Today she saw a different side to Junkrat, and it challenged her opinion that he was a bad man. Before, she had only known him as someone who was always joking around and being annoying, or being a terrifying maniac on the battlefield. Today, he was scared. The joker and the madman had been stripped away and what was left behind was a terrified, malnourished boy. There was no laughing, no jokes. Only terror, warnings, and then _that thing._

_That thing wasn’t Junkrat. Why would he be terrified and warning her away one moment, and then trying to get at her like a wild animal the next? But it couldn’t be anyone else. It was his body, but she had never seen him like this. It was like he wasn’t in control of what he was doing._

She was frightened by Junkrat’s odd behavior, but she was also incredibly worried about him. Mei didn’t understand why she suddenly cared so much about a man who had been nothing but a nuisance to her.

She was stopped from her pacing around the cabin by a tap on her shoulder. She jumps out of her skin a little bit, startled, and turns to face the one who was trying to get her attention. A tattooed pig face stares back at her, and then she turns her gaze upwards, toward the blank black mask that is also staring at her. “Mr. Roadhog! Did you need something?”

The mountainous man simply nods, and then walks to the the ladder down into the cargo hold. Mei watches him, and when she doesn’t move, he offers a grunt and a come here motion with his head. She shuffles forward and follows him down into the cargo hold. Once they’ve made sure they’re alone and closed the hatch, Roadhog crosses his arms and speaks up. A rare thing from him. He hardly speaks, and what she’s heard in the past, she hasn’t been able to make out very well.

“How much did you see?”

He didn’t need to elaborate on the context of his question. She knew. She also knew that it would probably be unwise to lie to this man. Whether for her own safety, or for the sake of getting answers from him, she was going to tell the truth. “W-well, he looked scared after he got shot, and I thought it was because he was afraid of dying, but then again, he only started looking scared after I made eye contact with him. He was afraid of something else, but I didn’t know what, and when I got him down from the roof and into the alley, he came around and started telling me to get away from him. I didn’t understand why. Then you came and when I was running away,  I-I turned around, and… He was up and snarling like a beast! A man with a wound like that shouldn’t even be moving around! And I could have sworn his eyes were red and his teeth looked sharp! What was all of that? Why was he like that?”

Roadhog let out an exasperated sigh. “The radiation in the wasteland does things to people over time. He sometimes goes wild like that when his life is in serious danger, and he doesn’t have control over himself when that happens. You’re lucky I got there when I did.”

“That certainly explains Junkrat’s fear and actions.” Something about the ‘radiation’ explanation didn't feel quite right with her. Even though she initially thought as much, she became about ten times less sure once she saw the red eyes and the canines that grew at least twice as long as normal in less than a minute. To her knowledge, changes made by radiation were more permanent. She decides not to pry further, vowing to do her own research later, and changes the topic somewhat. “If he gets like that, he could be a danger to the team! Does Winston know?”

“No.”

“What?! Why not? If there’s something like that, the team, or at the very least, Winston should be aware of it, so that the team won’t be blindsided by it!”

“If he or anyone knew that he was such a liability, that little twit would never be put on missions, and then he’d probably blow up bits of the base out of boredom. Then we’re in line to be kicked from Overwatch.”

“But if Winston or anyone knew, we might be able to take better care of him on the battlefield.”

“How much of what you saw did you mention to Winston?”

Mei bit her tongue. “I left out the parts about Junkrat growing fangs and lashing out. Winston knows that Junkrat was shot, moved to an alley, and then you came and I was ordered to retreat.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Mei was the one to cross her arms this time. “You two should really talk about Junkrat’s condition with Winston, though. I’m hurt that you two hid something so important, and it put my life in danger because of it. I won’t tell on you two, but I’m sure people will only feel more hurt and betrayed the longer you keep secrets.” She begins walking back toward the ladder leading up to the crew cabin. “Keeping secrets is dangerous. If you’re worried about getting kicked out of Overwatch, I would strongly recommend that you tell the truth.”

She starts climbing the ladder, but before she can open the hatch to get out, Roadhog gets out a last statement. “Thank you for keeping quiet about this. We’ll come clean about it with Winston when we’re ready.”

Mei offers a small smile, opens the hatch, and joins the rest of the crew. When she sits down, Zarya come over and sits by her. “You alright, friend? You have not been yourself since we got on ze ship. And pig man just spoke with you. I do not mean to pry, but is something going on?”

She had just promised she wouldn’t share what she had seen with anyone, and it pained her to tell more half-truths. “I saw Junkrat get shot by a sniper. You know, I never thought a sniper shot could create such a large, gruesome hole in a person. The image won’t get out of my mind, and I’m worried about him.”

“You are worried about trash man? I thought you did not like him.”

“I _don’t_ like him,” Mei sputtered defensively. She didn’t, right? “It’s just traumatic to see anyone on the edge of death. I hope he recovers.” Despite saying this, she wasn’t particularly worried about him dying. She might have been more worried, perhaps even panicked about it, if she hadn’t seen him healing on his own, and seen him up and thrashing around as if he hadn’t just lost half his guts and a bunch of blood.

Zarya puts on a serious face. She must have been remembering a comrade when she said, “You have good point. I understand, friend. But, what was with pig man?

“Roadhog came to talk with me about what I had seen, and to let me know how Junkrat is holding up at the moment.”

“Ah. Zat makes sense.”

There is a silence that Zarya breaks before it can get awkward. “I can stay with you if you’d like until we get back to base.”

“Thank you, my friend.” She offers a small, strained smile. “I appreciate it.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

Reaper stomped on to the Talon transport in Ilios. He was upset that they were forced to retreat before they could get their hands on any of the artifacts, and was miffed on a more personal note for having to go out in the daylight. He didn’t mind wearing all the heavy, dark leather and his mask, but even they had limits as to how much of the sun they could block out. He was slowly burning and healing and re-burning in an annoying cycle under his clothing all day as he baked in the sun. Sombra and Widowmaker were waiting inside, and the gate closed and they were on their way. He was jealous of Sombra for being able to stay behind in the transport to run surveillance.

“That mission was a mess.”

Sombra leaned back in her chair facing the computer monitors and looked at her nails in mock interest as she countered him. “It was not a total loss, mi amigo. Right, Amelie?” She shot her a knowing smile.

“Oui. I located our escaped Rat. Left him with a little parting gift.” She played around with a silver sniper round in her dead, gloved fingers.

Reaper let out an evil chuckle at that. “If his self control from last time is any indication, I’d wager he went off on a teammate out of blood lust. Even if he didn’t, though, I’ll bet his world will implode when all those humans eventually figure it out. It’s only a matter of time.”

“This will be so much fun!” Sombra whirls around in her chair with her arms in the air and an impish grin on her face. “Let’s keep messing with him, maybe we can speed things up, and I can see mi Rata again!”

“Ugh. I don’t know why you have such an attachment to that dirty man,” Widowmaker said in disgust with a wrinkled nose.

“I guess you wouldn’t understand, _demonio necrófago._ A vampire and their sire have a connection, a _blood bond._ ”

“Hmph.”

Moira entered the crew room from the small kitchenette on the ship, holding a tray with four red drinks and set it on the briefing table. “Drinks are ready, you three.”

They gathered around and picked up the drinks. Each one was blood, but Moira had made some adjustments to it to make it more nutritious than normal via experimentation, and each was customized to each person.

Sombra raised her glass. “A toast to Rata, may he sow chaos within Overwatch, and get us one step closer to his treasure.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

The observations Mercy made about Junkrat kept getting stranger and stranger as she worked over him.

Her first observation was how fast Junkrat was healing. Roadhog had told her that he had used some of his hogdrogen on him, and she was amazed at how much he had healed from that. The wound had continued healing even after he wasn’t breathing the gas. Maybe it was still circulating and working in his system. With the addition of her staff, he healed even faster, the nanites rebuilding his obliterated organs and skin at a rate she had never seen.

Her second observation was that the ray from her staff also seemed to put him in more pain, judging by his facial expressions and agonized hissing and vocalizations. Normally her staff was pain _relieving,_ so she was perplexed by this response. By the time they were situated and off the ground, the hole in his torso had shrunk to the size of a quarter. Before, it was the size of a grapefruit.

She still couldn’t believe how fast he was healing. She had even double checked the settings on her staff to make sure they weren’t set too high. Too many nanites could be dangerous to patients. The settings were normal, though, and she frowned and looked back at Junkrat.

He was now babbling incoherently and twitching his fingers around. Sweat slicked his skin, and he was breathing rapidly and shallowly. His forehead was cool to the touch when she laid a hand on it. He was in shock. Quickly she strapped an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and turned the flow up decently high and added a small dose of laughing gas to calm him down, and soon also had cleaned off a patch on his arm for an IV. Her third observation was that his skin was tough and it took more effort than usual to get the needle in.

After squeezing the bag until at least half of it was in, he had calmed down significantly; his eyes were closed peacefully, and his breathing was slow and even. It seemed this would be a good time to get him a blood bag. She didn’t know his blood type, since he had no health records with that information, and had vehemently refused to visit the medibay since arriving at Gibraltar for the first time nearly a month ago. She figured if he didn’t want to come in, then now, while he was knocked out, would be as good a time as any to get a blood sample to analyze for blood type and other things. She didn’t have to worry about making him fast before testing his blood either. She noticed he had woken up too late for breakfast and didn’t, to her knowledge, eat any snacks or the lunch provided to the team. She got out several tiny vials and a tube with a needle, sanitized another spot on Junkrat’s arm, and stuck a vein. The miniscule vials filled quickly and she bandaged up the point.

This is when she made her fourth observation. She stored all but one vial in the mini fridge, and placed the last vial in a device that would quickly read the blood type. The machine, rather than list a single blood type, spit out an error message followed by a list of multiple blood types. What? She was now very curious to see what a more in depth analysis of his blood would reveal. For now though, she selected a blood bag from the fridge that was one of the types listed, and got it set up.

Her fifth observation came soon after she swapped the tubing from the IV bag to the blood bag. The remaining IV fluid in the line was absorbed at the same rate as before, and the blood that followed down the line tinged the IV liquid red. As soon as the first trace of red reached his arm, the flow rate changed. Drastically. The blood bag hanging above Junkrat emptied in a matter of seconds.

_Mein Gott…_

Never in her time as a doctor had she seen any bag drain that fast. She decided at that point that she could no longer ignore all of the strange things about Junkrat’s recovery. She would ask him about it when he woke up, though that might not be for a while; Junkrat was still peacefully out on the stretcher. She went and grabbed another blood bag, and hooked it up carefully, making sure not to let any air bubbles into the line. When she released the clamp on the line, the bag emptied at a similar rate, shriveling quickly. She glanced down to his torso wound, only to find that it was no longer there. It had been just over an hour.

Her healing technology is beyond state of the art, but it isn’t good enough to fix a liquefied hole from a sniper round in an hour. Junkrat obviously isn’t normal. Perhaps stuff like this was the reason he was avoiding the medibay? She would respect his privacy. If the rest of the team knew he was fully healed already, they would be suspicious, and pester him or her or both. She therefore needed to obscure the fact that he was healed. She wiped down the spot where the wound had been, and taped some gauze over it, and finished up the display with a sheet thrown over his body. She briefly admired her work, and then spent the rest of the ride back recording her observations.

She had a lot of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a decent outline for this story now! When I started I didn't really know what I was doing, I just started writing because I was inspired. I was originally planning on writing a different story as my first fic, but I was in a vampire mood since I had just finished watching the second season of Vampire Knight.
> 
> When it comes to my vampire lore, though, I draw a lot of inspiration from other places. One of my biggest inspirations is Hellsing Ultimate/Abridged. Of course, I'm also pulling bits of lore from other places, though to be honest I'm not entirely sure from where.  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Again, don't be afraid to comment with corrections, compliments, or ideas, if you have them! They're all appreciated. :)
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	4. Patient Confidentiality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercy and Junkrat have a long discussion, and an unexpected visitor comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you all! Not a lot of action in this chapter, just a lot of setup for what's coming.

He feels himself coming around. He can hear an incessant, constant beep, that's annoyingly in time with the blood pounding in his head. He tries to open his eyes, but is blinded by the bright light, so he closes them again. After a little bit, he tries again, and this time he's able to make out a white ceiling, and a pale green curtain that's pulled all around him. He looks down, and sees he's in a bed of some sort, with fresh sheets. Well, as fresh as they could be given the sooty junker underneath them. They were covered grey smudges in places. What was this place? He had never been here before.

He tried moving to get up but stopped when he felt something tugging on his arm. He looked at it, and was mildly horrified to find a needle nestled under his skin, leading to a tube and up to a bag on a hook. The bag was empty, drawn tight around nothing, and had a big letter O on it. The bag and tubing had a small amount of red liquid in it. _Blood._

His memories come rushing back to him all at once; the seating pain of getting shot, the fear he saw in Mei’s eyes, the terror he felt at not being able to control himself, Roadhog’s yelling… _Oh_ fuck _, what happened after that?!_ He pulled at his hair as he tried to piece together the fuzzy and distant memories. He dimly remembered drinking blood, but he couldn't remember what it tasted like. It wasn't Mei’s, was it? Oh god please let it not be Mei’s. Fuck, _fuck,_ **_fuck!_ **

As his thoughts rapidly darken, and his pulse spikes, he hardly notices the rapid beeping beside him.

A familiar face, framed by platinum blonde hair, opens the curtains, and he meets her blue-eyed gaze. He is momentarily comforted due to his previous train of thought being derailed, but a new train of thought quickly picks up where the first left off. _How much does she know? Was she the one who put that blood bag there? Of_ course _she was, ya drongo! God fucking damn it, if she's figured it out and gone and told everyone-- fuck, no, I’m gonna get the boot! No! Fuck! I'm fucked! I'm absolutely--_

“Junkrat?” Mercy eyes him with concern, and he stares back, petrified. His lips move to speak, but the words die in his throat. “Junkrat, calm down. Everything is fine. You're safe, and we’re back on base.”

Junkrat was definitely not calm. Roadhog and Mei reoccupied his thoughts. “Where’s Roadie? Is Mei okay? Fuck!” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, intending to get up this time, and ripped the taped on needle out of his arm. He needed to know what happened, needed to know what the others knew about the situation. Too many what if’s were bouncing around in his head, and it was throwing him into a panic. He needed to know if his friends were safe, if his secrets were safe.

“Junkrat! Please calm down! Mei and Roadhog are fine!” Mercy said, losing her cool and grabbing Junkrat’s arm to keep him from walking out of the infirmary. He didn't believe her. He shook her off easily, and started storming to the door.

“Need to see it with me own two eyes!”

Angela fumes before completely losing her temper, and against her better judgment uses the name which Junkrat absolutely didn't want to be called. “Jamison Fawkes!”

Hearing his real name snaps him out of it. She knows his name. Of course she does, who hasn’t see the wanted posters? It was silly to think that omitting his name from the Overwatch files would stop people from knowing. But it reminded him that she might know more about him than he’d like. What else does she know? He is vulnerable, and despite wanting to run out, he knows he could make things infinitely worse if he left this threat to his privacy alone. He turns around to see a Mercy with irritation written all over her face.

“They are fine, and I will let you leave to see them after I go through some things with you.” Her irritation fades into something more gentle. She smiles a little bit, but the dark circles under her eyes betray her exhaustion. “Please.” She motions back to the bed.

He sighs with resignation as he walks back to the bed. “Dunno what you wanna talk about, but if you're lyin’ about the two a them, I'm gonna be mad as a cut snake.” _Mad at himself,_ he didn’t say. He knew what she wanted to discuss, he knew she'd want to discuss it as soon as she mentioned that they needed to do an initial checkup for their records. He didn't want to outright admit to being a vampire, so he would deflect and play dumb unless she found too much.

“While I was treating you, I noticed a few things, and I wondered if you'd be able or willing to shed some light on them.” She pulled out a clipboard that had her notes on it. “Given some of the oddities of what I found, I think I can understand why you may have been apprehensive about coming in to my office.”

That comment sent a jolt through him, and he was sitting ramrod straight, tense. “You didn't share anything with anyone, did’ja?”

“No, Junkrat. I am bound by law to keep patient records and interactions secret. Anything I notice about you or talk about with you is to remain private unless you give me permission to share. Patient confidentiality is important in my line of work, and I have plenty experience keeping secrets as a result. You can trust me.”

Junkrat was skeptical and hesitant, but he felt slightly more at ease. “And how can I trust that you won't let that AI Athena know my information? I know most records here are managed by her, but I don't trust bots or AI one bit.”

“If it would make you feel better, I can keep your records on paper only. It will be a little more work on my end, but if it means that you'll trust me a little more, I'll do it.”

“Roight, okay.” He looked away from Mercy and scratched the back of his head. “So, uh, what did ya find?”

She looked at her clipboard again and then back to Junkrat. “You healed at an extraordinary rate. Roadhog told me initially that he had used some of his gas on you. I can't say I agree with the use of that stuff, but I thought it was amazing how well it worked. That is, until I tested your blood. There were no traces of any substances in your bloodstream. So you were just healing that fast on your own. Further analysis of your blood also revealed that there were no traces of radiation. I’m baffled by this, since you _did_ come from an irradiated wasteland.”

“Oi, I don't remembah giving you permission to do that.”

Mercy fixes him with a dry stare. “Would you have agreed if you were awake?”

“Well, no…”

“Exactly. Again, I have no intention of sharing your results with anyone. This is between you and me.” She continued. “Another thing I noticed was that you have no single blood type. I identified at least four blood types. Other things I noticed were that my Caduceus staff, while it helped heal you, seemed to cause you pain. The staff should be pain relieving; next was that your vitals were odd. Your pulse and body temperature were both initially far below what’s considered normal. That is to say, if a normal person had those vitals, they’d probably be within minutes of death, but you seemed relatively okay. The next thing was that you have pretty tough skin. The IV needle did not want to go in; and when I hooked up blood bags to help replace what was lost due to the injury, they were drained within a minute nearly each time. After each bag, your vitals returned to more normal levels. Even now, though, they are slightly below average. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, Angel-face.” He was expecting that these were the kinds of things he’d hear, but there were still some things that surprised him, such as the negative reaction to her staff, and the blood bag draining thing. He figured he was only able to take in blood through his mouth. He made a mental note to ask about the staff later. Fuck, that was a lot more information that she had found than he thought. There was no way he was going to get out of explaining what he was.

“That’s good. My first priority as a doctor is to make sure my patients are well. It is also a priority of mine, however, to document the conditions of my patients so that I may heal them better in the future. Your case puzzles me. The rapid healing, the negative response to my Caduceus staff, the low temperature and pulse, the tough skin, the many blood types, the absence of irradiation, and the incredible rate at which the blood bags were drained all are strange to me. Do you have ideas about your condition? If you don’t know, that’s okay. If you’d like, I could do more tests to see if I can figure out what’s going on with you.”

The idea of more testing disturbed Junkrat. He shuddered as unpleasant memories of his encounters with the irish scientist threatened to come pouring out of the dark corner of his mind which he’d shoved them off to. He’d rather come clean about this whole mess than allow the doctor to do tests on him. “Listen, Merc, I do know something about why I’m like this. It’s gonna sound roight crazy, so I need ya to promise me somethin’ before I can tell you. Can ya promise not to freak out, or get me kicked outta Overwatch for it?”

“Whatever it is, I can’t imagine it’s worthy of kicking you out of Overwatch. You came here to this organization for a reason, no? I know Winston is paying you, but something tells me you care about more than just money. As long as you stay true to your heart, I see no reason why a medical condition should be grounds for expulsion. And I’ve heard plenty of crazy things over my many years; I’m sure I can handle whatever you have in store for me. I promise.”

Junkrat felt a warmth in his chest, hearing the kind words of the good doctor. He had indeed come to Overwatch for a reason. Several, in fact.

The first, and least important reason (that Mercy was able to cut through with ease) was the money. They were hired on as mercenaries, and were being paid well for their services. Despite what all their heists suggested, though, Junkrat and Roadhog didn’t actually care too much for money. A good portion of their spoils were even thrown to the wind or ended up on the black market. They stole from the rich suits because they thought it wasn’t fair for them to hoard all that cash and not share with those who actually needed it. It was the same reason he stole from the Queen. After a while, defiling the grossly rich was more of a statement than it was for the money. Still, though, they never turned money down if it was offered.

The second reason was for his own safety. As much as he loved sowing chaos, he hated being on the run, constantly chased, by more and more groups of people. At first, it was just the other junkers, who wanted his treasure. Then it was Talon, who also wanted his treasure. Following Talon were the monster hunters, because he was now a vampire. The authorities made their way onto the list after his and Roadhog’s numerous heists worldwide, and bounty hunters joined in when their bounties skyrocketed after robbing the Dorado Bank and stealing the crown jewels from London. Joining Overwatch would allow him and Roadie to get their bounties and crime records wiped in due time, which mostly took care of the police and bounty hunter issues. Being in Overwatch also provided some measure of defense against monster hunters, and allowed them to fight back directly with Talon, with help of course.

His last reason for joining was the most important to him. He wanted to do good for the world. Before the omnics came and poisoned the outback, he loved super heroes, and idolized Overwatch. He even had action figures and he would have them save the day in his imagination. In the early days after the omnics came and ruined his home and the radiation killed his parents, leaving him alone with his friend, Oliver (whose parents also died), he found himself frequently wishing a hero would come and save them. They were only seven year olds, what could they do? Where was Overwatch when they needed them? He resented them for a while, but ultimately dropped it when he needed to focus on survival. Maybe they were busy saving other people. He couldn't wait for others to save him. Eventually he and his best friend found themselves in Junkertown, and they took care of each other. They were heroes to each other. He missed Oliver. Of course, he wasn’t entirely gone. His friend would always live on within him. It didn’t stop him from feeling awful about what he did to Oliver, though, and he desperately wanted to atone. He couldn't grieve, though. No, that was dangerous, he couldn't afford to show weakness like that. Instead, he vowed to decommission as many omnics, kill as many Talon agents, and rob as many rich assholes as it took to make it okay. Maybe by doing so he'd save some lives, too. Maybe one day he could be a hero to someone, like he used to be to Oliver.

He and Roadhog tried legitimate hero work once, but were double crossed and thrown to the wolves. They gave that filthy suit what was coming to him, but from then on, they tried doing things on their own. Try as they might, though, it landed him and Mako nothing but high bounties and the labels of “criminals,” and “terrorists.” When he and Mako were driven into a corner one day after a failed heist, he was sure it was going to be the end of the line for them. Oh, was he surprised that day, because not only did they not try to kill him on the spot, but they offered him a job. Never mentioned anything about jailing him and Mako though. Perhaps they knew that prisons haven’t been able to hold them? Even more surprising was that they called themselves Overwatch. He could have sworn they were disbanded. He’d heard the news over the radio in the Junkertown bar about 6 years ago. Despite his disbelief, he didn’t doubt that the group was who they said they were; he recognized the massive knight. Going legit with an organization he worshipped as a kid wasn’t even a question. Of course, he negotiated as though he weren’t going to agree outright, because even though he liked Overwatch, he didn’t want to get slighted like last time.

His reasons for being here were good.

His resolve settled, Junkrat cleared his throat, and spoke the truth he had tried to keep hidden from them for over a month. “I’m a uh, well. I’m a vampire.”

Mercy’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, that is a surprise! I thought they were myths, and if you had told me earlier, I probably would have brushed it off as a joke. It lines up with my observations, though, so I can’t rule it out. But…” She taps her pen to her chin and looks out the window in thought. “The sun? I thought vampires turned to dust in it? You are outside frequently and are fine?” There was no trace of fear in the Swiss doctor’s demeanor. Only curiosity. Junkrat was puzzled, but the good doctor made well on her promise, so he indulged her.

“All vampires have something special. I got fuckin’ lucky, if you ask me. Apparently it’s got something to do with personality and life experiences. Fire and sunlight, and heck, even me own explosions don’t hurt me,” he explained. She was scribbling down notes on her clipboard at a furious pace, taking in all of the new info.

“That sounds lucky indeed. And what about the radiation? You show no signs of radiation poisoning.”

“You saw how fast I recovered from that wound, yeah? Me new healing has gone and healed me chronic ailments, too. Repaired all the damage that was done by the radiation, and heck, even repaired me hearing. Everything used to be quieter and ringing all the time because of setting off too many explosives too close, but now all that is gone. I can even hear better than I used to _before_ I started messin’ around with bombs. Vision’s better, too, and same with smell.” He remembered the staff. “Say, how does your staff thingy work?”

She continues writing things down as she gives her answer. “The staff uses molecules and atoms in the air and converts them into different elements and small manufacturing modules use those materials to assemble nanobots. When they’re ready, they fly in a stream toward the recipient, as determined by me. There are two types of nanobots, one for healing, and the other for boosting energy, but they function in essentially the same way. The nanobots enter at the surface level, and are small enough to go between cells and travel deeper. They are able to transmute themselves into new substances, and thus can turn into new cells or provide fuel for existing ones, and the nanobots disappear when all of their material is used up.”

Junkrat didn’t understand half of what she just said, but summarized what he _did_ understand, so that he wouldn’t come across as a dumb idiot. Not that people thought of him as much else, anyway, and usually he preferred it that way, but now was not usual. “...Roight, so tiny machines go in and change into different things? What’d ya say the nanobots were made of?”

“The air taken in by the staff is converted into hypoallergenic metals, that is to say, metals that should not cause a negative reaction upon contact with a patient.” Her eyes lit up as she realized what he was getting at. “Do you think that perhaps the material might be what was hurting you?”

“Well, I didn’t have a clue until you mentioned that your staff shoots little bots. Thought before that it might have been jus’ magic or somethin’. Ya still didn’t answer me question, though; what metals?”

“The casings are titanium, and there are microscopic lights built in that shine different colors based on type, so that I can tell the two types of nanobots apart visually, and the circuits are made of silver, which happens to be a really great conductor in addition to being hypoallergenic. Faster signal means a faster response.”

“Ah, doc, I think I found yer problem. See, I have a bit of an intolerance for silvah. Shit burns, and it actually disrupts me own healin’.”

She gets her pen and clipboard again and jots down the note. “Very interesting. I’ll have to hold off on using my staff on you until I can make some adjustments. I’ll make new generator units that create nanobots with gold circuits and implement them into my Caduceus staff. I’ll have to also alter the transformation programs to compensate for the switch from silver to gold, which might be a little troublesome. I wouldn’t want to leave you high and dry, though, even if you are able to regenerate quite remarkably on your own.”

“‘Preciate it, Merc. So… how come you’re so okay with all of this?” He made a vague gesture with his hands.

“Well, the way I see it, you’ve been here for more than a month, and you haven’t hurt anybody here in that time. I would know, since it’s my job to take care of the injured. However, that does make me wonder, how have you been feeding yourself? I mean, I’ve seen you eat food in the dining hall, but isn’t blood the only thing that can sustain a vampire? I guess that also leads me to wonder why you eat the food in the dining hall at all.”  

He feels pretty sheepish when he answers. “I eat at the dining hall to keep up the appearance a’ being human. Food also don’t taste any different from before, so I sometimes indulge meself in an old favorite food or drink, because it reminds me of things I used to enjoy, but it’s pretty tasteless compared to blood, an’ I have to spit it up later anyway because I can’t digest it. Can’t say I’m not used to puking up me food, though. Happened with the radiation poisonin’ more often than I’d like to admit. As for blood, I’ve been feedin’ on downed Talon agents and the loike in alleys so people won’t see, or won’t care as much if they do. I can usually go two or three days after feedin’ ‘fore I start feeling the hunger again. I can go a week before that hunger turns into starving. After a week and a half, it starts becomin’ unbearable, to the point where any spilled blood runs the risk of settin’ me off on a bloodthirsty rampage. Anythin' past that, and I start getting weaker and looking less and less alive. Roadie and I have an agreement that if I start starving and there ain’t any food around, he’ll feed me just a little of his own blood to tide me ovah ‘till we can find something.”

Mercy’s eyebrows are high on her face and her eyes are wide, though it’s in surprise rather than fear. She finishes jotting down her note. “Well, if you’d like, I can provide you with blood whenever you need. Not from me personally, that would be bad for you and me both. What I can give you is donated blood. Serious injuries are not uncommon in this line of work, so we keep a pretty good stock of spare blood just in case.”

Junkrat lit up at the Doc’s kindness. “Ya would do that fa me?”

“If it keeps you healthy and strong and not hungry, then absolutely. Hmm… however, if the amount of blood we have to order each month increases, I’ll have to justify it to Winston. I’m assuming he doesn’t know about you being a vampire. In my personal opinion, I believe it would be good for him and the team to know, but I understand if you want to keep it secret. Should you decide to come out about it, though, I will stand by your side and defend you, if you’d like. You just have to let me know.”

By this point, the warmth in his chest has blossomed and spread, and he smiles genuinely. “You’re the best, Angel-face.”

“You are welcome, Jamison.” She rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. At the gesture and the gentle use of his name, he feels a pang of something he hasn’t felt since… His mother was around. She was kind and caring, and they had the same pale blonde hair. The Doc cared about him like she was his mother. He didn’t know if it was motherly love she was showing or if it was just obligation, and while it might have been safer to assume it was the latter, he wanted to believe it was the former. She takes her hand off his shoulder before resuming her previous statement, putting on her professional tone again. “Back to the topic of blood supplies, there’s around six bags left over at the end of each month. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Blood normally gets tossed after 42 days if it hasn’t been used. I’d say I can safely give you one blood bag per week without having to inform Winston of anything.”

“That sounds great, Doc. Oi, ya mentioned something about drinking your blood being bad for me? Not planning on doin’ it, but I’m wondering why?”

“Oh! I implanted some of my own tech in my body. I have a small nanobot generator, that releases bots into my bloodstream. They heal me automatically when I’m injured, and also seem to have stalled my aging process. I’m actually about 10 years older than I look.” She smiles and chuckles a little as his jaw drops, and then she once again puts on her professional face. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, I have nanobots in my blood that have silver circuitry. It could be lethal for you to ingest silver like that.”

“O-oi. Thanks for tha warnin’. If I evah forget it, do please remind me. I don’t want to die.”

“Oh do not worry. As long as I keep you well-fed, there should be no problem, right?”

His apprehensions returned at that statement. There would definitely be problems. “W-well, actually, there is a little problem. See, if I get injured real bad, I can go from well-fed to starvin’ and on a rampage pretty fast… That’s ah, well, that’s why I was worried about Mei. She was around when I got shot. I was able to hold meself back long enough for Roadhog to show up, but I don’t remembah what happened afta that. I’m not in control o’ what I do when I’m in that way. Also…” He tried to word his next statement carefully, to avoid association with Talon. “This kind of thing is likely to happen again. They must have known what I am, because that snipah bullet was silvah. They’re gonna try an’ exploit that, force me to go off on whoever is closest, use me against you all.”

Mercy’s eyes go wide with that knowledge. Her expression is a mix of horror and rage. “Scheiße! They know?” She grabs him by both shoulders and stares him straight in the eye. “Junkrat, how would they know that?”

“It’s possible that they have supernaturals among them. Us strange sorts can generally tell the difference between humans and otha blokes loike me. Could also be huntas. Huntas are trained to pick out monstas from humans. Know what to look for, an’ all that. Could even be more huntas or monstas in Talon than just that blue snipah sheila.”

Mercy frowns in though, and let his shoulders go. “Perhaps it would be best in the meantime if--”

“Please don’t take me off missions, doc. As much as it’s dangerous, I think I’d lose me mind back here with nothin’ to do. And if they are monsters, I'm prolly the most qualified fa the job. Before today, ya didn't even know vampires an’ shit were real. At least let me on the next mission so I can figure out what we’re dealing with.”

Mercy bit her lip. He must have hit the nail on the head with where her argument was going. “I’d prefer if I could finish making adjustments to my technology before I let you on a mission. Besides, it's probably best to pretend you're still injured for a day or two if you want to keep up your facade. Speaking of, I took the liberty of bandaging your torso while we were on the dropship, even though it was already healed.”

Junkrat looks down and notices the bandages for the first time. “Hooley dooley, how’d ya figure to do that?”

“I figured you were avoiding my office for a reason. You were hiding something, and if it was important enough to hide from me, it was probably important enough to hide from everyone else on the team. You are my patient, and as your doctor, it is a duty of mine to keep details about your health confidential unless you give me permission to share. In that same vein, I’d like to reiterate that it might look suspicious if you’re up and about less than a day after half your guts were blown out. Even with my technology, it would still take at least two days to heal a wound like that. I doubt we’ll have another mission for a week or so, anyway, but if an emergency mission comes up in the next 24 hours, it would probably be in your best interest to hold off.”

She was right. He mentally kicked himself for not considering this when he tried to walk out earlier. Then again, he wasn’t in his right mind then. He was too worried about Hoggie and Mei. That’s right, when was he going to see them? “Roight, so, I’ll stay. But do I have to wait alone? I know you’ve said Hoggie and Snowflake are alright, but it would still comfort me to see tha two a’ them.”

“I could summon them here, if you’d like, but I think we should wait until morning; we would not want to wake them.” She looked to the window as she said this; the had dipped past down below the horizon since he had woken up, and the sky was now getting quite dark. The stars were already making themselves prominent. “If they drop by sooner, though, I won’t turn them away. In the meantime, though, I think we still have more to discuss. I think I can upgrade my staff in approximately five days, if I hurry. It will not be perfect, but it should be better than nothing. Next mission, I will do my best to keep you well. Injury will be an inevitability, but if I can keep you from reaching frenzy, I will call that a success. However, frenzy is still a very real possibility. It seems to me like you’re terrified of losing control of yourself, and I want to help, so, what can I do if you reach frenzy?"

Ouch. She just cut through and identified one of his biggest fears. Not that he was trying particularly hard to hide it, but it still bothered the part of him born out of the horrors of the wasteland that refused to show weakness.

He debated whether he wanted to share information on how to stop himself so soon. It would mean being forced into compromising states, but it would also mean that his team would have a way of protecting themselves against him should Talon make him lose it. He decided it would be for the best to share; after all, his team could defend him if he’s forced into dormancy, right?

“Me first recommendation would be to keep some spare blood on the battlefield. Blood exposed to the air smells much stronger than blood trapped behind plastic, glass or skin. Small amounts won't satisfy me in that state, but the point is to use it as a distraction to get away. If I had to guess how many blood bags it would take to stop a rampage, it would prolly be somewhere between eight and ten. Best option is to distract me until someone can restrain me. Roadie’s been dealing with me for two years, and he’s probably one of the only ones, besides Rein and that Russian sheila, who could pin me down without incident. I suppose Sym could probably also restrain me with her hard light stuff, she’s done it before when I’ve gotten on her nerves in the workshop.” He frowned a little. It wasn’t like there was much he could do to stop his near constant fidgeting or chatting. While he _could_ do something about the soot that he left everywhere, he was both too proud of his layer of dirt, and too afraid of showering to actually take action on the matter. All of it - the fidgeting, the chatter, the dirt, and the disarray - got on little miss perfection’s nerves. He silently hoped that it didn’t bother Mei as much. Unlike with that suit, Symmetra, he silently worried what Mei thought of him. He would joke and tease, but would drop it and leave before she would get too worked up. He would want to keep on bothering her, but he knew that if he had, she might be actually angry with him. Would she freeze him solid if he pushed her too far? On the flip side, would she freeze him if he asked her to, or if he put her in danger? “Mei might also be able to encase me in ice or somethin’, but that wouldn’t hold for very long. Anyway, the goal is restrain and feed. Dead bodies will do fine for feeding, long as they’re fresh. If there’s nothing for me to drink, though… Well, I don’t like this option much, but it’s a surefire way to stop me dead in me tracks. Get stakes about yea big,” he marked with his hands a length about 30 centimeters, “in any material besides silvah, and jam it in me heart. I’ll look roight dead, but I promise ya that ain’t the case. That bein’ said, I won't be able to foight back if some bloke wants to snatch me up or kill me, so I'll either need to be carried by someone or hidden away securely. I’ll go roight back to how I was as soon as it’s removed and the hole has closed up, so I’d make sure ya have something ready. Also, and I don’t know if this is asking too much, but until I come out to the team, do ya think any stakin’ or feeding me could be done away from prying eyes?”

“I think we could manage that. If you don’t mind, could I collaborate with Roadhog on this matter? If he knows that I know and that you are okay with that, and we make sure we’re on the same page, I think it could improve our efficiency in dealing with those kinds of situations.”

“Sure thing, Doc. And, if ya can’t find or make a stake, me or Roadie could make one for ya.”

“I’ll let you know if I need one, thank you.” She lets out a yawn. “My, it’s gotten late. I think I’m going to sleep soon. You should get some sleep too. ...Wait, do vampires need to sleep? And don’t they sleep in coffins?”

“Don’t really need to sleep, but I feel bettah if I do. Can’t say I’ve tried coffins yet, though. Could be an interestin’ experiment.” She scribbles down these last few notes on her clipboard.

“Believe it or not, *yawn* we actually keep coffins on base, in case we have to hold a funeral for a fallen comrade. As the doctor, I hope that that never happens. I could help you get one sometime to try out if you like. Is there anything else you need before I go to bed?”

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep that night, so he wanted something to do. The reality of facing off against Talon had set in, and he wanted a way he could fight back. Two could play at the silver game. “Do ya have some spare paper and pencils? If I can’t sleep, I wanna start working on some new schematics.”

She nodded wordlessly, and disappeared through the opened curtain. She returned a bit later with a few pencils and a clipboard carrying clean, blank paper, and a little device with a button. “If you need anything else, you can let me know by pressing this button.” She set it down on table next to the hospital bed.

“Ta. Sleep well, Angel-face.” He wouldn’t bother her with the button. She looked exhausted.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Jamison.” And with that, she turned and left the curtained enclosure.

He began sketching, and all was quiet.

***

“Hola, Rata.”

A yelp left him as he nearly jumped out of his skin at the purple and black clad vampire standing at the foot of his bed. “Fuck! Sombra! How the hell’d you get in here?!” He looked down at his half-done schematic. A heavy pencil streak now lay through the middle of the page, and annoyance bubbled up in him. “Ya could have at least waited ‘til I finished drawin’ that line!”

“Calm down, Rata. I’m sure your next draft will be even better anyway. And I’m not actually here. I’m in your head, amigo.”

“Well, what are ya doin’ in me head, then?” He responded indignantly.

“We haven’t talked in so _loong_ ,” she fake moped. “Come on, aren’t you happy to see me?” Junkrat glared at her. “Oh, don’t be like that, I’m your ally, here. After all, who was it that helped you escape that time? And who was it who made sure the Dorado Bank heist went off without a hitch?”

He groaned in frustration. “But you’re still workin’ with Talon. Talon wants information from me, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you also want that information, and that you’re tryin’ to be good cop to get it.”

“Pendejo, you forget. I hate working with them. There’s something big going on, bigger than you and me, and I need to be with them to earn their trust so that I can learn the truth before it’s too late.”

“How do I know you’re not tryin’ to do the same with me?”

“Because I’m here to warn you.”

“Whot, that they know I’m in Overwatch, and are gonna start targeting me to make me go off on me own team, or, or that they plan on recapturing me? Interrogating me again for the treasure?”

“You’re smart, Rata. Smarter than you let on. I like that. Si, that is the gist of it. I’ve got more details for you. They’re gonna try and mess with you first, to get Overwatch to turn on you. They’ll do that by attempting to expose you in front of your teammates.”

“So whot am I supposed to do? I can’t just not go on missions.”

“Think of it this way: your team will figure it out eventually. Would you rather be honest with them and be in a position to defend yourself, or have it forcibly put on display by Talon? Whether or not you tell them, they’re gonna force you to frenzy, and I think it would bode better for you and for your precious team if they know what’s going on and how to handle the situation. I won’t be able to stop my ‘comrades’ because I have to act like I’m on their side. And, if the discussion with the doctor was any indication, I think you have little to worry about in telling the team.”

She was making good points, but the mention of his earlier conversation ticked him off. “Oi, I don’t remembah giving you permission to eavesdrop.”

“Geez, calm down. I only heard the tail end, with the bit about the coffin. She wouldn’t be talking about coffins if she didn’t know you were a vampire, and wouldn’t be offering to help unless she was okay with it. So obviously it went well.”

He exhaled a sigh of relief, for the first time feeling somewhat at ease since her arrival. Maybe he could trust her? “Orroight. Just give me a sign next time you occupy me mind. If you’re only in me head, then no one else can see ya, right?”

“Si. I left myself invisible, because I didn’t want you to freak out. Next time I show up, I’ll be visible from the start, as long as you promise not to shriek again. And if there are other people around, you can’t talk to me. Don’t need your teammates thinking you’re more insane than you already are. If I show up and you can’t talk, run a hand through your hair and I’ll know to come back in a bit.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Am I able to do this kind of illusion stuff too?” He was curious about vampire abilities in general, since most of what he knew was through trial and error. He’d never had an instructor.

“You know, illusion is kind of my specialty, but it’s much easier with you since we’re blood bonded. You might be able to do it a little bit, because of the blood bond, since you have some of my blood in you from when I turned you. Your specialty is fire, no? I found that out when I didn’t immediately start frying in the sun when I got careless one day.” She shrugged.

“How the hell?”

“Blood is a person’s essence, Rata. If you drink it, you take in some of their essence. When I turned you, I took your essence into me, and then I fed my essence back into you. I gained a small fraction of your powers, and you likewise gained a small fraction of mine.”

“Wait, the sun resistance is just a small fraction of me specialty? Hooley dooley, guess I need to get with the program.”

“I could help you out if you want, Rata.” She offered a surprisingly fond smile. “I want the best for you. You’re my fledgeling, after all.”

He was tempted by the offer to help learn, but it all seemed too good to be true. “There’s a catch to this, ain’t there?”

“You’re wise to be cautious, Rata. I do have a favor to ask, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. In fact, I’d say this offer is more to your benefit.”

“Oh really? Try me.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“All I ask is that our connection be kept silent. Don’t let anyone know you know me or Talon. Well, I suppose they could be fine knowing that Talon in general is who turned you into a vampire and that you hate them for what they did, but don’t tell them I’m the one who turned you or helped you escape. Don’t even _hint_ to your amigos that I’m on your side. I can’t jeopardize my undercover position in Talon, and if you or your team starts giving me preferential treatment, my cohorts will be suspicious.”

“Well, that ought to be a piece a’ cake.”

“Sounds to me like we have a deal, mi _volantón_. Until next time.” She flashes a smug smile, and leans forward to tap a bright purple index finger on his sharp nose. “Boop.” And then she vanishes in a flourish of purple pixels, and he’s alone in the room once again. He removes the top page from the clipboard and starts again on the fresh page.

There's a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if that was kind of a repeat of chapter 2's explanation conversation. I wrote it out because I felt there was enough new information to share, and some really good opportunities to slip in bits of backstory. If it felt too long, I understand. There will probably be one or two more instances of the vampire explanation, but I promise those will be much shorter. Junkrat just really needed some support and motivation. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (+2 allies)
> 
> The next update may take a little longer, since I'm going away for the weekend. It may come out around Wednesday or Thursday.
> 
> As always, I appreciate your feedback! <3


	5. Learning Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat makes a tough resolution, and reflects on his experiences while he waits for his instructor to show. His lesson leaves him with some unintended consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back a little early with another chapter for you all.
> 
> Enjoy!

Roadhog visited him in the medical wing after the sun came up. He brought him breakfast, and by that he meant Roadhog was eating it himself when no one was looking. Today Mako ate his second breakfast by his bedside. He told Hoggie that Dr. Ziegler was now in on the secret. As promised, he didn’t mention Sombra. In return, Mako shared with him how Mei was safe, and didn't know about the vampirism. Jamison was glad Mako covered for him. After the discussion, Mako left.

He really didn't want Mei to know about his condition. With the exception of his best mate, and the good doctor, telling people what he was didn’t end well. Normally he couldn’t give two shits about people being afraid of him, or angry at him, because those people ended up dead anyway by necessity; they were people who were after him for one thing or another, or they knew too much and it was too risky to let them live. Or, they were simply a meal. Mei was none of those. She wasn’t interested in his treasure, and in fact, she didn’t seem interested in him at all. Well, maybe that wasn’t true. As much as she expressed her hatred for him by calling him a ‘no good bully’ on many occasions, the fact that she expressed it at all meant she had at least noticed him. She had given him attention, and it meant the world to him to have her attention.

Jamison was attracted to Mei, for more than just her blood. She had sent Winston a video transmission about a week after he and Mako had arrived on base. She had made it out of her Ecopoint (whatever that was) in Antarctica and to another Antarctic base (an Australian one, no less. Who the fuck knew Aussies like himself would want to build bases on a cold ice continent?) where she got a ride back to Melbourne in ‘Straya. From there, though, she needed a lift, because her bank accounts had closed down after nine years of inactivity and what little she had would run out soon. To everyone’s surprise (and probably the reason this message was no longer private), Mei’s hotel door was kicked in while she was recording, and the uniforms of Talon agents could be seen through the door frame for a brief moment before she whipped around and pointed a strange gun at the door, and a wall of ice sprang up to block the entrance. She spouted something in another language (Jamison assumed she was cursing) and theorized briefly that someone must have sold her out after she mentioned coming from Overwatch’s Ecopoint. She ended the call with a series of coordinates.

Jamison had been star-struck by the small woman in the video. Her face and voice were cute, and she looked healthy. He was a little concerned about the bot that she was so affectionate towards, though he couldn’t say he’d ever seen any omnics designed like that, so the thing was probably safe. In any event, he liked her affection and cheer immensely, but could also tell that something was bothering her. She had that haunted look in her big brown eyes that he had seen all too often in the eyes of the living in the early days of the fallout. He didn’t know what was bothering her, but he felt like he could sympathize nonetheless. He felt the odd urge to comfort the small woman. Someone cheerful and seemingly kind like her didn’t deserve to suffer. She wasn’t a suit, anyway, so she was probably genuine. Then, he went from adoring and sympathizing to complete awe when she used the ice gun to block off the Talon agents. Her reaction time was downright impressive, and the gun was obviously homemade, which stirred a new level of respect in him for her intelligence and skill. He was prepared to join the rescue team. He would kill any of those Talon bastards if they laid a finger on this woman. Hell, he would kill them anyway just because he despised Talon, but something about this cheery, cute, intelligent woman with the sleepless eyes made it personal on a whole other level. He hated the thought of anyone hurting her.

He knew, deep down, that included himself. He didn’t want to hurt her. He realized it from the start, but he couldn’t acknowledge the fact that he’d have to be especially careful around her until he met her in person for the first time, and gotten a whiff of her heavenly scent. He would go mad if he lingered around her for long. Jamison felt torn at that. He wanted to be with her, but knew he couldn’t or else he might do horrible things to her. Unfortunately, her disdain for him hadn’t been too much of a deterrent for him. It hurt, but it didn’t keep him from trying. It did, however, make him more afraid of ruining things between them. He would joke and tease to try to get her to lighten up, but it would never work and he would leave swiftly after each failed attempt.

Jamison had held out hope that she held some level of affection for him, simply by rising to the bait of his teasing. Receiving rude, mean, and even disheartening retorts from the small woman was better than receiving the cold shoulder.

Today, he received nothing at all from the small climatologist. No visit. Something about her absence stung a little more than usual this time. He had seen the panic in her eyes in reaction to his state during the mission, and had been hoping that it meant she actually cared about him. Apparently it meant nothing. Maybe that caring she had felt for him was obliterated when he lost himself. She probably thought he was a monster after the last mission. She already thought he was a no good bully. What’s one step further? If he really didn’t want to hurt her, then perhaps it would be better if she hated him enough to give him nothing. Maybe telling her he was a vampire would help her hate him. Or be afraid of him. The part of him that still held out hope that she could like him told him telling her would be a bad idea. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to tell her or not, so as the sun set on another day, he resolved to simply avoid her, to try and distance himself. Maybe then he could get over his pointless attraction to her, and it wouldn’t matter if she knew or not.

It would be for the best.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Jamison was released from the medical wing the next morning, and in the following days, he would flee whenever he smelled Mei coming. As a result, he discovered more secret routes around base to get from one place to another, and plenty of hiding spots. Over the week, he also communed with Sombra for lessons.

Sombra started with the vampire basics; the stuff every vampire should be able to do. The first few lessons were on transforming into bats. Transforming into a bat wasn’t particularly useful to Jamison, since his mangled arm translated to a mangled wing, but the heightened senses provided by the bat ears and nose was neat. In his free time, he learned how to transform just his nose and ears.

Today, after he and Roadie and Angel-face had worked together on covertly moving a coffin to his individual room, he lay in it idly, waiting for Sombra. As he waited, he reflected on some of the discoveries he’d made about his vampirism on his own while traveling with Roadhog.

Soon after laying his secret bare for Mako, the two of them had made a few changes to their lifestyle. Jamison no longer ate the lizards or any of the food the two of them found, nor did he drink any of their water supply, since it would be wasted on him. They were never in towns long enough to have to pretend to be human by eating food, so this wasn’t an issue. When they _were_ in towns, they made a point of selecting a junker or two to feed Jamison. This was rarely an issue, as there would inevitably be someone who had heard of the two of them and wanted revenge or a stab at his treasure, and Jamison would prioritize these people over the more innocent Junkers. Still, he would do what was necessary. The first such meals since his reveal were carted around by him and Mako to see if they would become vampires or ghouls. They carried the bodies around for a week before deciding nothing was going to happen, and burned the bodies as usual. At that point, Mako had given him permission to bite him when he fed.

The first time he had truly fed from Roadhog, he struggled. He wasn’t used to voluntarily stopping himself from feeding once his fangs were in. He was able to stop himself, though, albeit with a great amount of effort and some help from Roadie. He was surprised Roadie had been coherent enough to flick him on his head while he was under the influence of his venom. Jamison supposed this was a miraculous thing. He gave the bite a few last licks, which to his surprise closed up the puncture wounds. Normally that didn’t happen, though he supposed it might have been because his meals were usually dead when he was through with them; there is no healing to assist with when all body functions have ceased. He was glad his friend wouldn’t bleed out.

Mako was still unable to form coherent sentences or get up until nearly two hours had passed, and the whole time his massive companion had been panting hard and clumsily attempting to satisfy the lust coursing through his veins. Each time he finished himself off, the relief would only be momentary until he was straining again. Junkrat didn’t step in to help his bodyguard. It was still the first time, and while Mako begged, Jamison knew that Mako’s words were currently heavily influenced by venom. The consent would have to come after.

When Mako had finally come down from the bite, he was silent for a long time. He didn’t give his conclusion until dinner was cooking over the fire.

_“That was focking miserable.”_

_“Soo… Does that mean no more biting?”_

_“...”_

_“C’mon mate, out with it. I ain’t gonna be mad if ya don’t want me bitin’ ya no more.”_

_“... As much as it was a pain not being able to be satisfied, I liked it. It’s focked up, Jamie. It’s focked up, because I want you to bite me again.”_

Junkrat had frowned at that. Maybe this was a lasting side effect he hadn’t accounted for. _“Mate, I agree it’s fucked up. Ya know, I’m thinkin’ we should give it a week or two before we consider doing this again. Maybe ya won’t want to be bit again so much by then.”_

They had left it at that, and indeed by the time a week had passed, Mako had asserted that he didn’t want Jamison biting him again until he could control his venom. He had practiced controlling his venom over the next few weeks, using his meals’ reactions to gauge how successful he was in his endeavors. Success meant his victims would thrash defiantly in his grip until they could no longer do so due to blood loss. Success meant no tented trousers, no lust-glazed eyes, and no flushed faces. Success was eventually achieved and then practiced until he could reliably control his venom. And so then he tried again with Mako, and that time the results had been much better.

He then remembered his first experience being outside of the outback for an extended period of time. He and Roadie had started their world-wide crime spree, and they had gotten caught in a rainstorm. He remembered being terrified at first because he was used to horrific acidic rains in the outback, and was also unsure if rain counted as “running water” when it came to vampiric weaknesses. But he had been fine. No burning. No nothing. After that realization, he allowed himself to step back into the rains and enjoyed the feeling of it washing over him. It was cold, but it didn’t bother him like it probably would have if his body hadn’t already been cold and dead. Jamison stood in the rain in awe. Even though he hadn’t any need for clean drinking water, the fact that it was falling from the sky was astounding.

The rain had also left him the cleanest he had been since he was a kid. It washed away all the soot and the last of the outback’s red dirt. That was when he started noticing something new. From that day on in their world heist spree, he could feel himself getting weaker. Sleeping didn’t feel satisfying like it used to, and he couldn’t go as long without going hungry. Fortunately, it didn’t incapacitate him, but it was still worrisome. It wasn’t until they had finished their crime spree and returned to the outback and slept on the red dirt again that he felt his vitality return. He concluded it must have had something to do with the dirt, so he emptied the contents of a grenade on his harness and packed it full of the red, irradiated soil. Since then, he carried it everywhere, and it had been serving him well in Overwatch to sleep with the dirt-filled casing nearby.

As he wondered if the coffin he was currently in would grant any benefit like the soil of his homeland had, his thoughts were interrupted by Sombra’s “Hola” echoing around him.

“Hey Sombra,” he replied, not surprised anymore by her sudden appearances. Today she wasn’t anything more than a disembodied voice, but that was just fine.

“How is mi Rata today? Bien? I see you’ve gotten a coffin.”

“I have. Ya wouldn’t happen t’know if these things help, do ya?”

“I think I’ll let you figure that one out on your own. You’re a smart little rat. I have something in store for you that’s part of my skill set. You ready to start?”

“I’m ready whenevah you are. Whattaya got?”

“Blood memories. It’s possible to read the memories of the people whose blood you drink. Have you ever seen flashes of images or heard bits of sound when you’ve drained a person?”

Junkrat scratched at his chest in thought as he answered, “I suppose I have. So that’s what those are? Memories?”

“Si. And the more blood you drink, the more memories become available to you.”

“Wait, so, if you can read memories from blood, does that mean you learned about me treasure when you turned me?”

“Si, but don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of sharing that, not after seeing what that damned treasure was. That shit should _stay_ hidden. Even if it wasn’t something that should stay hidden, sharing anything like that with them would put me in danger.”

“Well, that’s good ya didn’t share, but, ah… Why would sharin’ endanger ya? Wouldn’t the others know that you’d been able to see those memories?” He was bothered by the intrusion into his past, but was comforted that she hadn’t shared any of it. He was still scared, though.

“Like I said, mi volantón, this is part of my skill set; only a scattering of vampires can read blood. The skill is actually really valuable. So valuable, in fact, vampires with that ability often become _slaves._ See, I like my freedom. So I don’t tell anyone I can read blood. I can also read minds and utilize strong illusions, but I disguise these things with hacking and tech. They think my specialty is technology. I am admittedly pretty good with tech. Those other vampires at Talon don’t know shit, though, and it would be bad news for me if they did. Same goes for you, Rata.”

Jamison realized the gravity of her words. She had kept his secret quiet after his turning, and even still kept it secret as he fed a lie to the others about the whereabouts of his treasure, because if she let it slip that she saw the truth in his memories, she would become a slave. _He_ might become a slave, too, if he was able to catch even glimpses of memories in blood. The fact that she was sharing this with him at all meant she trusted him enough not to rat her out, and also cared enough about him to not want him to become a slave either. He decided it would be best to build on that trust. “As a thanks for keepin’ quiet about the treasure, I’ll keep quiet about ya mind readin’. ‘S only fair, I owe ya one.”

“I expect no less from my favorite little rat. Now, are you ready for your lesson today?”

Junkrat thought about it, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to experience the memories of those he had consumed. Probably by way of her skills, Sombra was able to convince him with her next statement. “You can revisit memories long after the act of drinking an individual’s blood. And, here’s the best part. If you completely drain a person, you take their very soul essence into you. So, not only can you read all of their memories, you could probably even converse with or summon those spirits you’ve adopted. Think about it, you could talk to and see your beloved _Oliver_ again.”

The idea of seeing his friend again was impossible to turn down. He didn’t even care what Oliver might think of him, but if he at least got a chance to explain himself and apologize, that would be entirely worth it. Without further thought, he agreed.

Sombra showed him how to listen to the blood. How to access the memories. This was going fine, but he realized he made a mistake when, much later in the evening, he was trying to sleep.

Now that the floodgates were open, his dreams became nightmares full of screams. Countless faces crowded around him, screaming or moaning or desperately asking what the fuck he was, calling him a monster. Among the faces in his nightmare, he spotted a familiar one covered in freckles and topped with curly russet hair, mint green eyes wide with fear. Oliver didn’t scream, but whispered his name in a forlorn, broken, confused voice.

_“Jamison…?”_

He jerked awake within the coffin, nearly smashing his head on the lid. _Fuck, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if those voices keep up…_ He decided he needed a pick-me-up, and figured some boba tea would make him feel a little better. A little less like a monster. He got up and headed to the kitchen, grateful that the halls were empty with everyone asleep. He would be all alone while he made his precious boba tea.

Or so he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I appreciate your feedback!


	6. Late Night Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei stays up late doing some research, and runs into someone she wasn't expecting when she goes to the kitchen for coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while since we've heard from Mei, so here she is! I'm pretty sure this is the first chapter where I've stuck to one point of view.
> 
> There is some Mandarin used in this chapter and I've posted translations in the end notes.
> 
> As always, enjoy!

Since the mission, Mei couldn’t get Junkrat out of her mind. Zarya told her while she was still on the transport home that she should avoid visiting him in the medibay if she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Back then, she still hadn’t been sure how she felt about the tall, dirty man, so she followed Zarya’s advice. That evening, and the whole following day, she reflected on her feelings. She should hate him, right? He’s dirty, vulgar, and mean.

Her first time meeting him, she was pretty frightened. The Australians from the research station she had found warned her about junkers while on their way to Melbourn. She had heard the news of the nuclear disaster in Australia, but her knowledge of junkers was almost none. At the time she had to enter cryosleep, the news of the explosion was 9 years old, but any further news of the outback had likely been too minor to hear about on world news broadcasts. The researchers filled her in. According to the them, junkers were violent, unclean, almost feral people who came from the irradiated outback. They would terrorize the edges of civilization, but normally didn’t go too far into cities. However, there had been two large terrorist bombings in Sydney a few years back, carried out by some junkers. After that, even the citizens on the coasts were worried for their safety. In fact, there was even a pair of junkers who had terrorized and robbed places all around the world! The australian researchers showed her the junkers’ segment on “A Moment in Crime.” The Australian researchers added that it was unlikely she’d run into junkers, but to be prepared just in case.

Imagine her surprise when the two unruly junkers from the crime report were there on the team sent to rescue her. She had nearly sent an ice spike through Junkrat’s skull when she spotted him, and if it hadn’t been for familiar faces like Winston she probably wouldn’t have believed Junkrat when he said he was there with Overwatch to rescue her.

After the recent mission, seeing not one, but _two_ sides to Junkrat she had never seen before, she became less angry with him and more curious. She looked him up in the Overwatch database, and found only information that she already knew; Junkrat was from the Australian outback, had an extensive criminal record, and specialized in demolition and weapons manufacturing. Frustrated, she looked him up online, and scowled when she only found more bits on his crime spree. She did notice something in her search, however, that she hadn’t picked up when shown the segment from “A Moment in Crime.” That was Junkrat’s real name. It had been omitted from his Overwatch files for some reason, but here it was on a picture of his wanted poster. _Jamison Fawkes._

She found she liked the name, but it was a strange fit for the tall man. It didn’t fit the mad bomber persona he put on most of the time, and it definitely didn’t fit the wild animal that she had seen for a fraction of a second, but it _did_ fit the person she had seen on the mission in those moments of panic after being shot. Behind the hardened layers of madness and humor that made up Junkrat was a different, much more genuine person. A fragile young man, who had likely seen too many horrors to remain entirely intact. A fragile young man, who, in order to survive, had put on a mask and pretended he wasn’t afraid of anything. Junkrat was a shield for Jamison.

Maybe he wasn’t really as much of a bully as she had made him out to be early on? As she reflected on her previous interactions with Junkrat, she realized that Jamison had always been there, but she had never really noticed it with how much she had been focusing on hating _Junkrat_ . But Jamison _was_ there. Junkrat teased her, but Jamison knew when to back off. Junkrat would barge into her laboratory and cause a ruckus, but Jamison would observe her work with reverent eyes. A couple of times (and not just in her lab), she had even caught that reverent gaze focused on herself, and had also caught the swift aversion of his eyes to some other detail nearby. She had never paid attention to it before because she had been so caught up in hating him. How much did she actually know about him? How was it fair of her to be mean to him, when she had never given him a chance?

She felt guilt rise up uncomfortably in her chest the more she thought about Jamison, and had resolved by the end of the full first day back on base that she would go against Zarya’s advice and go visit him in the medical ward to apologize. Only, when she visited the following morning, he was no longer there. Dr. Ziegler informed her that he was released earlier that morning. The guilt only got worse in her chest. She tried looking around base for him over the next few days, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Others around base said they’d seen him around, and she’d gone to the places they said they’d seen him going, but she just ended up traveling in circles. His absence worried Mei, and though she wanted to find him, her resolve to look for him was deteriorating. Maybe he didn’t want to be found? Maybe she had hurt him by not visiting when she had a chance?

Though she eventually gave up searching around for him, her desire to understand him better had not dwindled. The following days, she researched the outback, junkers, and the effects of radiation. Information was pretty minimal, as it relied on brave souls to go out into the wasteland to study it and then report back.

In terms of the outback, she learned that the wildlife is mutated, and the weather is hot during the day and cold at night, and that storms are deadly and unpredictable. As a climatologist, she wanted to know more specifics about the weather conditions, and to study the timing and frequency to see if there is any kind of pattern, or if things are really as unpredictable as stated.

She learned a little more when it came to the junkers, but it wasn’t much more than small explanations for why they behave the way they do. Unsurprisingly, clean water, edible food, and medical supplies were scarce, and heavily fought over and scavenged. Vehicles and shelter were also highly coveted, and good scrap parts were valuable. The supply of necessities was woefully low compared to the demand for them, which was why the edges of society suffered from raids. She learned other little tidbits from the articles written by those brave reporters, including the junkers’ horrifying medical practices, their “trust no one” attitudes, their mech battles for prestige and survival, and their pervasive use of nicknames in place of real names. The reporter was able to find out from his inside contact that real names were heavily guarded because they were some of the last reminders of better times. _Certainly explains why Jamison insists on being called Junkrat, and Mako being called Roadhog…_

She made a note to herself to not call them by their real names unless they gave her permission. Then her search redirected to the effects of prolonged radiation exposure. She grew frustrated as she found nothing indicating that radiation can cause changes on the level of Junkrat’s. There were bits she found on genetic mutation, but those pathways ended in dead ends, because mutations were more often than not, harmful mutations. Cancer causing mutations. Unless fangs that change size could be considered cancerous growths and blood red eyes a strange side effect, she doubted that his condition could be attributed to cancer. She sighed in frustration and tried a different approach.

She looked up red eyes. Another frustrated sigh left her as she scrolled through page after page about causes of redness in the whites of the eyes, and treatments for said inflamed eyes. This was not what she was looking for. So instead she tried an image search. It was more of the same, but then she came across some images where the irises were red. Bingo! Except, they mostly linked to websites selling contact lenses, or were poorly done photoshops of stock eye photos. The descriptions on these photos were unhelpful, either by way of saying simply, “red eyes,” or by being advertisements.

Mei rubbed her temples. “Snowball, can you grab me another cup of coffee? I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”

Snowball made an agreeable noise and flashed a thumbs up before flying off to the back of the lab, and Mei turned her attentions back to her screen. Time for a new search. _Hmm…_ She typed fangs into the search bar this time, and the results were still a lot of advertisements, but it was ultimately much closer to what she had seen. The descriptions were much more descriptive, too, often using the word “vampire,” though she didn’t know what to think of that. She wasn’t too familiar with the word, as english wasn’t her first language, so she fed the word through google translate. _吸血鬼。。。 Bloodsucker._ She had heard of books and shows about them, but never had time to indulge in them, since she was so focused on her studies. Even so, 吸血鬼 don’t exist in the real world, right? They’re just fictional. Still, what she saw on the mission was strange, and this line of searching had brought her far more promising results than the whole radiation mutations concept.

She was about to do a google image search of vampires when Snowball bumped into her side. “Back already, Snowball? That must have brewed really fast-- wait, where is the coffee?”

Snowball shook itself back and forth and put on sad eyes, and then flashed the words, “RAN OUT.”

“Ah, well, thank you for trying, Snowball. Looks like it just means I’ll have to go to the kitchen and make some there, and bring back more supplies with me. Why don’t you stay here, Snowball, I’ll be right back.” At that, Snowball whirred happily and flitted over to its charging station.

“Maybe I need to cut back on the coffee,” Mei muttered to herself as she walked out the door. She brought a tablet with her and continued her search on her way to the kitchen. An image search of “vampires” yielded some interesting results. She found that many of the people displayed had pale skin, sharp canines, and white, yellow, or red eyes. The eyes and fangs seemed accurate, though she supposed she had never seen the true color of Junkrat’s skin, since it was always covered in soot and dirt and grease. She closed her tablet for the rest of the walk to the kitchen while she pondered what Jamison would look like if he took a shower for once. The man was a disaster. How was it even possible for someone to get so dirty, or to smell so strongly of chemicals and fire?

 _And why does it smell like chemicals and fire in the kitchen?_ The answer to her question stood in front of her as she walked in, hunched over the stove at the end of the room, his back to her. _What is_ he _doing up so late? 不好了，I’ve been searching for him all week, but now that he’s here in front of me, what do I say to him?_

Fortunately, he started first. He turned his head around to face her, wide-eyed, as she stood in the doorway. “Mei, g’day.” He seemed tense and nervous, and she could see his Adam’s apple bob as his swallowed. There was a note of fear in his voice, and a spark of it in his wide amber eyes.

She wasn’t sure why he seemed afraid. Maybe it was surprise, and not fear? Either way, he wasn’t being his usual joking and teasing self, so she tried to make light of the situation. “I think you mean ‘good evening,’ Junkrat.”

“Heheh... guess you’re roight on that. Say, uh, whatcha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

She felt her face grow a little warm at the question. She didn’t want to admit to digging for information about him, so she settled for something generic, and then deflecting. “I’ve been doing research. You know, I could ask you the same, why are you up so late?”

He broke eye contact and turned back to face his project on the stove, and spoke defensively. “Couldn’t sleep. Nightmares. Needed a pick-me-up.” He tensed up again. Maybe he hadn’t meant to admit to having nightmares?

She wasn’t unfamiliar with them, and had in fact been woken up by them more times than she wanted to admit, and it was made worse that the event that caused them was still so fresh in her mind. She moved up to the counter beside the stove, her guilt from the past few days rising in her chest. She knew so little about him, because she had always put up a wall. Maybe it was time to lower it. She still didn’t like him, but getting to know him better would probably improve their teamwork. That’s what she told herself, anway. So, she opened up. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She must have hit some kind of a nerve with that question, because Junkrat snapped. “Since when have you _evah_ wanted t’talk t’me about _anythin’?!_ ” He moved away from her with the pot in hand, over to the sink, where he grabbed a strainer in which to pour the contents of the pot. His movements were tense and rigid, and she could practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “Listen, I know ya didn’t come here t’talk, so get whatever ya came here for an’ _rack off!_ ”

Now it was her turn to be angry. “You know what, you are right, I wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone. I came here for coffee. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to talk to you! After I visited the infirmary and you weren’t there anymore, I tried looking all over for you! But now that I’ve finally found you, you’re being rude. Maybe I _will_ just take what I came for and leave.” As she stormed over to the cupboards containing the coffee supplies, she failed to notice that Junkrat had completely stopped what he was doing, and simply stood dejectedly over the sink. His voice is quiet when he speaks.

“...Ya tried t’visit me in the medibay? And ya wanted t’talk t’me?” His eyes met her own while she was mid grab for a bag of coffee beans, and with a look of broken confusion written all over his face, he asked, “Why?”

She brought the bag down and set it on the countertop while she considered her answer. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, so she thought carefully about her phrasing. “On the mission, you were acting differently from normal. You were afraid, and you were concerned about my safety. You knew what was happening and tried to warn me. Since meeting you, I’ve been nothing but mean to you, yet you still cared. Seeing what happened after Mister Roadhog showed up was scary, but he said it isn’t your fault when you get like that, and that you can’t control yourself when it happens. But that isn’t the point! The point is that until the mission, I didn’t consider how little I knew about you; I just made assumptions and pushed you away. So, I think I owe you an apology.”

“Now listen, there ain’t no reason ya gotta apologize. Ya ain’t the first sheila t’treat me loike rubbish, an’ ya certainly won’t be the last. It’s not loike I don’t deserve it. Ya don’t gotta force yourself t’be nice to me.”

“I _want_ to apologize, though. You might have done horrible things, yet you’re here in Overwatch. I didn’t agree with Winston’s choice at first, but I’ve known him for years, and I trust him. We’re teammates, and as much as I disliked you, it’s not right to keep on fighting amongst ourselves. I might not be your friend right away, but I don’t want to hate you anymore either. I want to get to know you better.”

She didn’t know if her imagination was playing tricks on her, but she swore she could see a pink hue rising across his ears, cheeks, and nose underneath all the soot, in the dim lighting of the kitchen. “Does, uh, does that mean ya don’t hate me no more?” He picked up the strainer from the sink, and emptied it into a bowl of honey. It was a bunch of glossy, dark brown balls. Tapioca?

“I don’t hate you anymore, no. Not after the concern you showed for me. By the way, are you making... bubble tea?”

“Oh! Yeah Oi am! I can make some bloody ripper boba tea, if I do say so myself.” He thrust out his chest in pride, and this made her laugh a little.

“If it is as good as you say it is, then I think I’d like to give it a try. Would you be willing to share some, Junkrat?”

“Yeah sure, I don’t see why not. Gonna be a bit before it’s ready, though, so why don’t ya grab a snack or start your coffee or somethin’ while ya wait?” He seemed to be in a much more cheerful mood now, and it something about it made her heart feel light.

“That sounds like a good idea.” She went over to the fridge while Junkrat continued working on the tea. As she surveyed the contents, the bagels and cream cheese caught her attention, so she grabbed those. “What is your favorite kind of bubble tea, Junkrat?”

He looked over his shoulder at her as he answered, “I think half sweet milk tea is ace, but I go for the fruity stuff every now an’ then, ‘cause those’re also good. You?”

“I prefer warm drinks, but in terms of bubble tea, I like Thai milk tea.” She opened the bag of bagels and frowned a little when she realized they weren’t pre-sliced. She went over to the knife rack and located the bread knife. “I’ve never seen someone make bubble tea at home, though. When did you learn how to make it?” She set the bagel on its side, and lined up the knife to begin sawing through.

“Me mum taught me when I was--”

“Ouch! Ah! 他妈的! Nrrghff!” Her grip on the bagel had slipped and her finger ended up in the knife’s way. Now there was a cut deep enough to already start bleeding. She caught Junkrat’s eye while she was hissing in pain, and she saw the concern in his eyes again, and another hard swallow. It hurt, but she didn’t think it wasn’t terribly serious; Dr. Ziegler could patch it up in probably 10 minutes. She didn’t understand Junkrat’s concern.

He stepped away from his work over the stove and was in front of her faster than she could comprehend. “Here, lemme take care a’ that for you,” he said while gently taking her injured hand which she was clutching to herself. His pupils were blown wide, and the amber of his irises practically glowed in molten halos around the dark circles in their centers. His face is pleading. She’s too shocked to respond verbally, but he wants to help, so she just nods to grant him permission for whatever he’s going to do.

He stoops down and gently takes her injured finger into his mouth, and closes his eyes. She’s still unsure of how this is going to help, but she figures there can’t be any harm in it. The wound stings at first, but his mouth is cool and it helps soothe her finger until it feels pleasant. While the cool temperature feels nice, it bothers her for a reason she can’t quite place. However, his lips are surprisingly soft, and the feeling of his mouth around her finger, sucking on it, with his tongue gently running over the injury sets an odd warmth bubbling up through her. She wonders what it might be like to kiss that mouth, but banishes the thought almost as soon as it comes up. _I’m only choosing not to hate him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him. There’s no way I’d get romantic with him… It’s unprofessional! And I don’t like him like that! ...So why am I enjoying this so much?_

His mouth had heated up quite a bit now from where it had started, but it isn’t uncomfortably warm. It feels nice, but she mentally groans when she realizes it's making it even harder to push the traitorous feelings out of her mind. Soon her finger returns to feeling like normal, and Junkrat releases it from his mouth and lets go of her hand. He seems almost reluctant in letting go, but he is more relaxed than he was before, albeit quite embarrassed looking. She definitely hadn’t been imagining it, he is blushing pretty hard now. _It’s strange to see him embarrassed, but it’s pretty cute… No, wait, stop that! He’s not cute!_ He rubbed his neck and looked away from her as he asked, “Feelin’ bettah?”

She looks at her finger, and is amazed to see that not only is the blood completely clean away, but the wound is also gone and in its place is a small scar. _Is his saliva magic or something? I think I’m adding this to the list of things I’m researching._ “Y-yeah, it feels much better, thank you. How did you do that, by the way?”

Junkrat lets out a nervous chuckle and averts his gaze off to the side. His gaze flicks around, trying to find a place to settle, but can’t, and eventually it lands back on her eyes. “The wasteland does some weird things to people.”

“If you say so.” She doesn’t buy it, but she isn’t about to jump into the whole vampire thing yet; she still has a lot to research before she can be sure of that conclusion. She still eyes him curiously and quietly, hoping that maybe he would crack, but he doesn’t. She leans over to the side to look past him at the stove. “I think you should check on your tea.”

Junkrat’s eyebrows jump up. “Roight, roight, forgot for a moment what I was supposed t’be doin’.” He hobbles back over to the stove with his step-click gait, and stirs the pot he’s got going.

She herself returns to cutting the bagel, albeit this time much more careful. “So, your mom taught you how to make bubble tea?”

“Yeah, yeah. Back when I was still an ankle-bitah. That was a different time,” he trails off in thought, and then interrupts himself with an insane laugh. “Then everything blew up and went to shit! Didn’t get t’make any more boba tea ‘till I got outta the GAFA.” He grabs two cups from the cupboard, and spoons some of the brown pearls into the bottom of each cup.

She didn’t know how to feel about how he avoided talking about his mom. She supposes it’s a sensitive topic for him, so she decides to leave it be. She places her sliced bagel halves into the toaster as she speaks. “I heard there was a big nuclear explosion in Australia… 18 years ago now? Goodness, it’s so strange to have to add 9 years to every event. Ah, what is the GAFA?”

He loosed another insane, giddy giggle, before answering. “It’s the Great Australian Fuck All! The bloody outback, ya know? Now, I gotta ask, what’s all this about addin’ nine years t’everythin’?”

Whoops. She wasn’t prepared to talk about her experience. _Go me, bringing up things I didn’t want to talk about…_ She figured it could be a good opportunity to learn more about Junkrat, though, if she made a deal with him. “I’ll answer that if you answer a question I have. One for one.”

“Roight, fair is fair. So? Whatsit with the nine years?” He had grabbed the tea from the stove and poured some into each glass by this point, and was on his way to the fridge for the milk.

She cleared her throat as she prepared the cream cheese to spread on her bagel once it popped up from the toaster. “Down in Antarctica, a truck that was supposed to deliver our supplies missed it’s window and a storm cut off all forms of transport. We were running low on rations so we decided to wait it out by going into cryosleep until someone came for us. Well, no one came, and thus none of us were woken up. By the time Winston’s recall message reached the Ecopoint and triggered the unfreezing process, nine years had passed. I went to sleep frozen in time, and woke up _nine years later_.” She figured that was enough information to give him; she didn’t want to go any further. She turned the conversation back to Junkrat “My turn. What is it like living in the ‘GAFA’?” She made air quotes with her fingers.

Junkrat finished pouring milk into the two glasses, and grabbed some spoons from the drawer to stir them with. He picked up one of the glasses and stirred it idly while leaning against the countertop. “Even without the radiation, Australia is a hot, dry place. All year round. ‘Cept at night. Gets real cold at night. And it isn’t always dry, either, but t’be honest, it’s better in my opinion if it _stays_ dry. First time it rained afta the explosion, I had the good luck a’ bein’ indoors. Saw some poor blokes outside and it wasn’t pretty. Acid rain.”

He set down the glass he had stirred up and picked up the other one to stir. “Wind is a problem, too. Kicks up the red dust, and breathin’ too much a’ that in is pretty much a death sentence. Carries too much radiation. Then there are the _big_ radiation storms, kinda like a red dust sandstorm and an acidic thunderstorm put togethah, pumped up on steroids. Basically, if there’s any kinda weather goin’ on that ain't sunny and blazin’, you’re fucked if ya don’t got shelter. Didya want ice in your boba tea, or d’ya want it warm?” The sudden change in topic catches Mei off guard, but she recovers quickly.

“I’ll take it warm, thank you.” She stopped spreading cream cheese on her bagel, which had popped up midway through his explanation, so she could accept the glass of warm bubble tea. She was enraptured by his explanation so far; researching the severe weather earlier was one thing, but hearing about it from someone who has experienced it firsthand was fascinating. She brought a spoonful of tea with a bubble up to her mouth. “Mmm! This is good!”

“Why thank ya, Snowflake.” He took a sip of his own glass. “Ahh, always bettah with fresh ingredients. You learn how to make do with what ya got out past the black stump. Outback is always short on fresh food and water, and unless yer willin’ to hunt for lizards or other mutated animals and plants, you’ll prob’ly starve. Gotta protect what ya got, too. Can’t trust no one. Even your best mates might try and stab ya in the back for your gear if they get desperate enough. And then, even if you win in a scrap, a single cut is usually bad news. Bleedin’ takes a long time to stop, infection is common, and medical supplies are practically non-existent.”

The contradiction of the seriousness of injuries in the outback compared with his healing abilities did not go unnoticed by Mei, who made a mental note of it.

“People barter mostly, in scrap metal and supplies, but money still exists. Trades only, no gifts! See, everythin’ has a price in th’ outback, and nobody gives anything or is nice to anybody without expectin’ something in return. Course that don’t say nothin’ about stealing. Everythin’s fair game, just depends on how confident or desperate ya are. I’ve done a lotta dangerous things in the name of survival.”

Mei is curious to hear more about the dangerous things he’s done, and files that away for later. She finishes up spreading cream cheese on her bagel and takes a bite while Junkrat continues.  

“Havin’ skill with somethin’ helps, too. I make all me own explosives, weapons, and heck, I even made me own arm ‘n leg! Well, I had a little help with me arm, but only because _I needed a hand_.” He flicked his eyebrows up and wore a shit-eating grin. Despite herself, she let out a small chuckle at the bad joke. She was honestly impressed though that he had made all of his gear by himself. She had underestimated his intelligence; she had for most of the time she’d known him considered him to be 二百五。

She finished her mouthful of bagel and spoke up. “I figured you made your own explosives, but I didn’t know you also made your own prosthetics. That's pretty impressive.”

He seemed to swell with pride at the flattery. “My genius is finally recognized!”

His grand display made Mei laugh some more. It’s nice to see him happy, and his happiness, as much as she's tried to fight it in the past, is contagious. He's turned now to the canteen on the counter which had been removed from its strap on his waist, and smiles in her direction as he unscrews the cap. “You know, it's real nice to see you smile and laugh.” He picked up the bowl of remaining boba and tipped them into the canteen.

She felt giddy at the compliment, more so than she probably should have. _Why should a compliment from a man I've only just opened up to make my heart race?_ Regardless, she still accepted it, but was too surprised to respond in English. “谢谢.” _Wait, no, he won't understand Mandarin… “_ T-thank you,” she corrected herself.

“You're welcome,” he responds while wearing a content smile. He grabs the remaining tea next and pours it into the canteen.

“I didn't realize you kept tea in your canteen.”

“Well, what'd you think I kept in there, grog or somethin’?” He seemed a little defensive.

“What's ‘grog’?”

“Oh roight, sorry. It means alcohol.”

“Oh! Well, in that case, no, actually. I figured it was something more essential, like water.”

He poured in the milk next. “How'd ya come up with that?”

“Well, I actually carry a canteen myself most of the time! It was an essential survival tool as I hiked across Antarctica, and I figured that was the purpose of your canteen, too.”

“G'donya. You’re Aces, Snowflake! You know that? I've had a lotta people complain t’me thinking that I’m some _bogan_ , and that I shouldn't be ‘drinking’ so early! I had t’explain t’them it wasn't alcohol!” She laughed while he capped the canteen, and he asked, “whot’s so funny?”

“I've never been pestered about the contents of my canteen before!” She pushed her glasses back up her nose as she collected herself.

He feigned insult while he swirled his canteen around. “Of course nobody questioned the contents of _your_ canteen! You’re not the mad idiot from Australia!” The canteen was clipped back onto its harness. “Anyway, I’m just about done here, gonna give the dirty dishes to the cleanin’ bots and try to sleep again.” He picked up the pots and dishes and brought them over to the revolving dish return.

“That sounds like a good idea. Thank you again for the bubble tea, Junkrat.” She hesitated in saying his moniker. It didn’t feel good to call him that in this situation, now that she’d opened up with him.

“Oh it’s no problem. And, uh.. Nah, nevermind. Goodnight, Snowflake.” He grabbed his unfinished glass of Boba tea and made his way stiffly to the door.

“Wait.”

He stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

“What were you going to say?”

He looked nervous again as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty head over it.” He turned and stepped out of the kitchen, and though she felt her insides go mushy from the compliment, she was becoming frustrated and went after him.

“Hey! Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

He stopped walking and turned to face her in the dark cafeteria. The moonlight coming in from the windows far above was the only source of light outside of the kitchen, and its pale light illuminated the edges of his face and musculature. The amber halos of his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. “If I tell ya, can ya promise t’keep it secret?”

The seriousness in his tone caught her off guard. Junkrat was serious about almost nothing. “S-sure. I promise.”

He put his glass down, walked up to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. She flinched a little at the gesture and the cold of not only his metal hand, but also his flesh hand. Those fiery halos bore deeply into her own eyes. While it was intense, she sensed a kind of fond warmness in them. “You can call me Jamison or Jamie if you want, if no one else is around. And…” The nervous fear returned in his eyes, which flicked around her face before settling back on her eyes. “If I ever go berserk again, and Roadie ain’t around to stop me, don’t hesitate to freeze me solid. And if…” he swallows hard, and grips a little tighter on her shoulders. “If it doesn’t hold, and you’re alone, don’t be afraid to spear me with one a’ your icicles.” He took off his metal hand from her shoulder and made an X with his finger as he said, “right here.”

“Won’t that kill you?” She’s horrified about what she’s hearing. Is he suicidal? Does he need help? Why would he ask her to kill him?

“It’ll hurt like hell, and I’ll look dead, but I promise that I won’t be. As soon as it melts or is removed, it’ll heal and I’ll resume being alive. I’m like this because I got fucked well and good for digging around in places I shouldn’t have in that hellish wasteland. I can take it, so defend yourself even if it means hurting me; I’ll understand.”

“But--!” She’s interrupted by his arms enveloping her and her face being pressed against his chest.

“Mei, the last thing I want is to hurt you,” He holds her tighter. “And I won’t be able to forgive myself if I do.” He then releases the hug and returns to having his hands on her shoulders. “Please promise me that you’ll defend yourself.”

It’s really hard for her to believe that he wouldn’t actually die from an icicle spike to the heart, but his sincerity touches something inside her and she decides to trust what he’s saying. She looks him straight in the eye as she says, “I promise.”

Jamison visibly relaxes, and a small, warm smile graces him as he lets go of her shoulders. “Thank you Snowflake.” He turns to go get his drink and leave, but his head lingers in her direction. “Sleep well, Mei.”

She smiles at him. “You too, Jamison.” He turns around the rest of the way and leaves the cafeteria, and she heads back into the kitchen to retrieve her tablet, bagel, boba tea, and bag of coffee beans. The tablet gets tucked under an arm, the bag of coffee beans is balanced on the same plate with the bagel, and the tea gets its own hand, and when she’s sure she isn’t going to drop anything, she makes her way back to her lab.

 

* * *

 

Back in her lab eats the bagel and finishes her boba tea as she reviews the evening in her mind for the things she should be on the lookout for in her research. _Cold body temperature, healing saliva, impaling the heart, super healing, super speed._

Her search resumed and she looked up vampire traits, which brought up a wikipedia page titled, “List of vampire traits in folklore and fiction.” She was astonished at the sheer size of the page, but then again it did cover tons of material. The headings at the top of each chart were more than useful enough to get a list of things going that she knew about Jamison. It wasn’t much, but the things that she had seen seemed to be evidence enough that he might be a vampire: the retractable fangs in the appearance section, the staking in the weakness section, the enhanced speed and unnatural healing in the supernatural powers section, though there was no proof of anything in the last two sections. Certain things made her doubt the whole thing, like him being able to walk around in the daylight, or eating human food, but many of the categories seemed optional or open to variation. And what about the whole assertion about the wasteland being the reason for being different? She scoured the reproduction and feeding tab, but found no evidence of radiation being a cause of turning into a vampire. But maybe it wasn’t specifically the radiation? Jamison’s words earlier hinted to her that his condition was a result of his actions rather than the fault of the outback itself; _“_ _I got fucked well and good for digging around in places I shouldn’t have in that hellish wasteland.”_ It still didn’t confirm whether or not he’s a vampire, but that detail effectively rules radiation out as a direct cause. Indirect, maybe, but definitely not the prime suspect. One thing that would absolutely confirm if he is a vampire is if he drinks blood. She’d never seen him drink blood. Had she? _Wait, what about my finger earlier? He didn’t bite, but he did clean off every last bit of blood from my finger._

Suddenly she saw the whole experience in a different light. _“The last thing I want is to hurt you.”_ She was injured and bleeding, and bleeding in front of a vampire was probably very dangerous. He was likely tempted by it. _It would definitely explain the desperate, pleading look beforehand, and the reluctance afterwards._ But he hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t used any fangs or indulged himself hardly at all. He healed her wound the fastest way he knew how, because if she had tried to bandage it in the kitchen, the smell of her blood would have lingered and possibly made the situation more dangerous. _If it’s truly that dangerous to bleed in front of Jamison, then the fear I see in his eyes is justified. He’s afraid of hurting me._

She was bleeding the day of the mission, too. A lot more than she was bleeding tonight. He restrained himself for a while but ultimately he lost it. She wondered what would have happened if Roadhog hadn’t been there, and the thought shook her. Would he have launched himself upon her, and drank all her blood? Maybe torn her apart while he was at it? She didn’t like the thought of skewering Jamison in order to protect herself, but she was now silently thankful that he had given her permission to freeze and stake him if absolutely necessary. Her ice was strong, but she didn’t know if it would hold against him. A thin layer might not be enough. She might need to freeze him in a solid block. She wouldn’t send a spike through him if she didn’t need to. But, her ice could last for a long time if it’s laid on thick enough. She herself could only stand freezing herself for about a minute before she started panicking and needing to breathe. Would he need to breathe? Would the cold ice bother him?

That was when the next realization slammed into her. _With the exception of when he was licking my wound, his skin was cold. As cold as a dead man._

_Jamison Fawkes died._

This realization reverberates and echoes in her mind terribly, and her imagination runs wild with various images of Jamison dead or dying, until she’s shaken out of it by a concerned looking Snowball, who flashes the question, “SLEEP?”

“Y-yeah. That sounds good.” And with that she shuffled off to bed, and tried to fall asleep, but her thoughts were occupied by Jamison. Jamison, who grew up in a horrible wasteland, did horrible things to survive, and ultimately met a horrible fate as a result of his desperate acts of survival. Jamison, who jokes and laughs to make light of most situations. Jamison, who makes his own boba tea and shares it with her. Jamison, who can be surprisingly tender and thoughtful. Jamison, who is afraid of hurting her.

_Jamison, who is already dead._

That night, her nightmares are different from usual.

 

* * *

 

It’s cold in the base. She walks around, though she’s not sure where her wandering will take her. She feels like she’s forgetting something important. Then it comes to her; she is alone. Where is everybody? She calls out the names of her team as she wanders the halls, and receives nothing but silence. Panic swells up inside her, and now she’s running through the empty base, until she gets to the cryo-chamber room. All the pods are closed and dark save for her own.

She goes up to one of the cells and presses her hand on the cold glass, and that terrible word shows up in red lettering; Malfunction. _No… No no no no no…._ The word pops up on all the pods. _No, this can’t be happening!_ She pounds on the glass of the pod and tries to pry it open manually, but nothing budges. She knows what’s coming next. _Don’t look at their face, Mei. Don’t do it._ Alas, just like always, she can’t help herself, and wipes away the frost coating the outside of the pod. _No, stop! Please!_

Jamison Fawkes is in the chamber, eyes closed, and skin and hair frosted over, all in faded shades of their former lifelike hues. But then, his eyes snapped open, and bloody red stared into warm brown. She screamed and fell back in shock, and then kept on scrambling away as the sound of pounding and scraping and incoherent screaming and snarling picked up from the inside of the chamber. The scratch marks he was making on the inside of the plexiglass were visible from the outside, and she watched in horror as more and more of them appeared in the dark glass.

“LeT mE OuT!! Grrrah!” The voice sounded garbled and inhuman, but it was still his voice.

“N-no, I can’t open the chamber….” It was true, she had tried already. But as much as it frightened her that she couldn’t open it, she was now more frightened of him getting out. She scrambled up and made her way over to the control console while the screaming continued, and turned up the dial on the cryogenic freezing. She covered her ears to try and block out the sounds of his struggle, but it hardly worked.

She felt more and more guilt as the sounds of his inhuman rage shifted to human panic and fear. She couldn’t block it out.

“W-what? What’s going on?! What is this liquid?! Fuck, it’s cold. Mei? Mei?? Can you hear me?”

She turned around, which was a mistake. Her words were already frozen in her throat, but the sight in front of her made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. The glass was clear now, and the scratches were gone and she could see him perfectly. Jamison is pressed up against the glass, no longer looking like he was just frozen, but instead looking very much alive, and very much in a panic. Gone are the red eyes, replaced now by terrified amber ones. What breaks her most is the spark of hope that lights up in his eyes when she makes eye contact with him.

“Mei, help me get outta this thing!”

She shakes her head at him. “This isn’t real. Y-you aren’t real.” She says it more to herself than to him. The cryo solution is up to his thighs now.

“Mei? Mei! Please, I can’t move me legs anymore. Ya gotta open this or I’m gonna die!” Now it was up to his waist. “Mei! Turn it off!”

This sparked her into action, but dread filled her as changing the dial and pressing buttons did nothing. That damnable red word popped up again; Malfunction. She was crying by this point. “I can’t do it!”

Now it was up to his chest. “No, please! It’s crushing me! I can’t breathe! Oh God, I don’t wanna die. Please, no! Mei--!” his words are cut off as the fluid covers and freezes over his head. No matter how much she wills it, she can’t tear her eyes away from him as the last of the tank fills up and the life drains from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“NOOO!!” She wakes up in her bed drenched in a cold sweat. _Okay, take in your surroundings. You’re in your bed in Gibraltar. Deep breaths. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. It was just a dream. Just. A. Dream. You didn’t kill him. And cryo-chambers don’t work like that. They don’t fill with fluid. He’s probably off somewhere else on base sleeping, perfectly fine. Calm down._

It took her awhile to follow her own advice, and by the time she spared a glance at the clock she groaned. It was 6AM. They had a mission briefing in two hours. _Kinda pointless to go back to sleep now…_

She dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom attached to her dorm room, and started her morning routine off with a hot shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 吸血鬼 - Xī xuè guǐ - Vampire, bloodsucker, or leech  
> 不好了 - Bù hǎo le - Oh no/not good  
> 他妈的 - Tā mā de - Fuck  
> 二百五 - Èr bǎi wǔ - Literally means 250. The term is used as an insult to call someone stupid or good for nothing; an idiot.  
> 谢谢 - Xiè xiè - Thank you
> 
> Mei’s internet searches are based on what I could search and find in real life.
> 
> School is starting for me now, so updates will probably slow down, but fear not! I will still work on this when I have free time here and there, and post when I am able.


	7. Bloody Boba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie's perspective, and the rest of his night.

Of course it had to be while he was in the middle of making his boba tea. It was the one time that week where he was unable to run away. He smelled her coming, and man oh man, the scent of her blood would never fail to light a fire in him. It would burn him up if he stayed too close too long. And honestly? Since smelling her blood exposed in the open air for the first time, her scent had only enticed him more. He could run away like he had done over the last few days, but it would mean abandoning his boba. When he was holed up in his workshop, abandoning his work was hardly a problem because his work was always scattered about and there were always half-done projects. But here, everything was clean and tidy, and a pot of half-cooked boba wouldn't go unnoticed, nor did he want to abandon it, because unlike his other projects, cooking tapioca was time sensitive and required attention. So he waited there, dreading each step closer she took to the kitchen, silently praying to whatever god is out there for her to have a different destination in mind.

Apparently the gods hated him. So much for avoiding Snowflake. She walked right to the kitchen, and stopped in the doorway. Being so close to her again made him tense, because the urge to bite into her was clawing to get out and he didn't want to risk hurting her. When he got the impression that she wasn't going to say anything, he hesitantly offered a greeting.

He was utterly confused by her joking reply. Normally he got cold quips, and this seemed more cheerful than cold. Why the bloody fuck was she being nice to him? He didn't deserve it. She should hate him. He was wary of her because of this sudden change in demeanor, which meant his walls - his harsh layers of _Junkrat_  - were up. Of course that doesn't mean he's any better at filtering himself. Of course he had to mention his nightmares. _Stupid whacka._ He in no way wanted to talk about his horrible dreams.

So he blew up at her when she asked.

A part of him was hoping it would get her to hate him again, and that part was satisfied when she gave her own harsh response. Unfortunately, it shattered the rest of him when he heard that she tried to visit him in the infirmary and then later try and find him. _No wonder it felt like I could hardly stop running around base._ She wanted to see him, and talk to him, and she had been _nice_ so far in their discussion. Of course he'd be the one to muck it up. He fucked up, and the realization that she'd tried to visit him bounced around in his mind. It must have come out of his mouth, too, because she stopped what she was doing. And looked at him. The only thing he wanted to know was _why,_ and so that's what he asked.

Apparently she wanted to apologize for her behavior towards him. It miffed him a little that her reason for wanting to do so was because he'd allowed her to see any weakness. He was used to his weaknesses being exploited and used against him, but she was being _understanding and nice_. It was a new experience for him, so he didn't fight back like he would have if he was in the outback. He still tried to offer her an out in case she didn't actually want to apologize, but she was insistent. Then she had to go and say she didn't want to hate him anymore, and wanted to get to know him better. While she _also_ said they might not be friends at first, it didn't stop the bubble of hope from expanding in his chest. _She wants to get to know me better? She doesn't hate me anymore?_ Those two things made his face feel hot. Heck, it made the rest of him feel pretty warm and fuzzy, too. He felt pretty fucking alive for once, not like his usual state of feeling like he's always just a little too cold. It was strange that he could still feel temperature spikes like this. He's pretty sure his heart is racing, too. _She doesn't hate me anymore, and wants to get to know me…_

 _And she wants to know if I'm making boba?_ Damn him to Hell if he  let this opportunity go to waste. He bragged about his tea. Of course it was a matter of personal preference, but he'd been determined ever since leaving the outback to come up with the best boba tea. He would compare it with other boba tea that he bought (or more likely stole) until he was satisfied his was better, and even then he didn't stop making little tweaks and improvements. He was rightfully proud about it. Talking with Mei about boba tea was refreshing and easy. It was so easy, in fact, that he even mentioned his mom without realizing it. He didn't talk about his life before the explosion with _anybody,_ but Mei--

And then she started cursing and the sharp, sweet tang of her blood in the air brought everything to a screeching halt. _Fuck._ His blood turned to ice in his veins and he could feel the ache in his jaw of his fangs lengthening. He only prayed his eyes had not yet changed colors. _Fuck, everything had been going so well. She smells too good… Why did it have to be now???_ He knew that if she bandaged it herself in the kitchen with the first aid pack, he'd still be able to smell her blood as if there wasn't a bandage in the way. He didn't want her to leave for Mercy’s office either, though, because he didn't want the pleasant moment they'd been having to end. He knew his saliva could heal the wound, but that would also mean getting a taste of her blood, and he didn't know if that was a good idea. Regardless, he wanted her to stop bleeding, and fast. His way was the fastest way.

Normally he forced himself to walk at a slower, more human speed, but he couldn't control it in that moment, and was in front of Mei within the blink of an eye. “Here, lemme take care a’ that for you.” He took her warm bleeding hand in his own cold metal one with as much delicacy as he could muster, and searched her face for any sign that she didn't want his help. She nodded, and that was all the permission he needed before he bent down, closed his eyes, and took the plunge.

His senses were flooded with her taste and scent, and he had to suppress a moan because it was so divine. His thoughts were interrupted when he picked up a stray idea of hers in the small amount of blood. It was only for a flicker of a moment, but it was an image of the two of them kissing, prefaced by an odd warmth he could only call arousal. That small blip he had caught in her blood lit a fire in him. It wasn't the first time he had picked up on erotic thoughts, but normally those thoughts came from those he had _bitten_ and used _venom_ on. He was doing neither to Mei, and holy shit did that turn him on to know she _pictured them kissing!_ He took a deep inhale of the air just to make sure it wasn't some kind of cruel joke, and he was rewarded; he could smell her arousal. It was real. _Fuck._ His shorts felt too tight. _Fuck, I hope she doesn't see that._ He adjusted himself as subtly as he could with his free hand.

Soon, there's no more blood coming from the healed wound, and the moment is over. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have another taste, but he knew he'd have to hold off if he didn't want to hurt her. She was no longer bleeding and that was what mattered. Thank god the smell of her blood was no longer in the air. _But fuck me sideways ‘cause I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to get her taste outta me mouth. And damn if this isn’t a terrible time to crack a fat. Roight, don’t make it awkward, ya drongo. Act natural._ So he asked her how she was feeling, and was glad to hear she was feeling better. He had to fight to keep his eyes focused on her face. _Don’t look at her boobs. Or her throat._ She was blushing and it was adorable and it helped anchor his gaze.

He was thrown off when she asked how he healed her finger. _Shit, I didn't think this through all the way. What'd Hog say he told her? It was the wasteland that did it t’me? Yeah, gonna run with that._

She accepted it, but didn't look like she believed it. _Fuck,_ he wanted to tell her the truth, but given what just happened how would she react? Before their conversation, he wanted nothing more than for her to hate him and stay away, but now that they were in good terms _and_ he had just glimpsed into her mind to see she was imagining kissing him, there was no way he'd risk damaging the thing they had. Adorable and intelligent, and standing in front of him, talking with him, not pushing him away. _What’d I do to deserve this?_

He didn't realize he was staring until Mei pointed out the tea. _God damn, I'm such a bloody whacka. Least I was still starin’ at her face._ That last thought did little to ease his embarrassment, though. His face felt like it was on fire as he turned back to his previous task.

For all his embarrassment, their conversation from before picked up right where it left off with hardly any awkwardness, and he was grateful for that.

This time, however, he avoided talking about his mom in detail. He might have been open to talk about it earlier, but that could have proven to be a mistake. So he changed the subject to the world after the Omnium blew.

She mentioned hearing about the explosion 18 years ago - _so that's how long ago that happened?_ He only had rough estimate of time when he lived in the outback - and feeling odd about having to add 9 years to everything. That confused him. He remembered 9 years being mentioned as well in the video she sent Winston, in regards to her bank accounts, but that hardly explained it. Why would she have to add nine years?

She wanted to know something in return if she answered his question. That was a dangerous game and the request made him nervous, but he really wanted to know, so he agreed.

He didn’t know what _cryosleep_ was, but figured it had to do with being frozen when she said, “Unfreezing process,” and, “frozen in time.” He felt there was more to the story that she wasn’t sharing, and he remembered the haunted look in her eyes over the video. The way she talked about it just now gave him the impression that she wasn’t alone down there. Maybe she was just been referring to the bot she carried around, but then there would be no reason for the loss in those pretty eyes, right? He’d be willing to bet that there were other people down there with her, and that something bad happened to them. He wasn’t going to pry, though, because he knew better than to dig into highly personal matters. He’d learned that the hard way in the Outback. If she’s ever going to share it with him, he’ll have to wait until she’s ready.

And the same applies to his own knowledge and experience. He’ll share when he’s ready. Thankfully, she asked what life was like in the outback. He could talk about that for hours without getting into overly personal details.

As he talked, he admired the way her eyes lit up when he talked about the weather, so he made sure to get in a good bit about it before handing her a glass of his signature boba tea. He was happy that she liked it. He took a sip, too. It was refreshing and tasted delightful, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough to wash the utterly sublime taste of Mei out of his mouth.

He went on to talk about the scarcity of materials and the resulting distrust, and though he told the truth about the severity of injuries, he realized he had slipped up. He would have to change his story a little bit if he didn’t want the truth to get out yet. He didn’t let himself show that he had slipped up though, and merely continued with talking about trading and stealing. He mentioned doing a lot of dangerous things for survival, which might have also been a mistake, but it was one he could work with in redefining how he became a vampire without spilling all of the beans.

He changed the topic again, this time to the usefulness of craftsmanship, and what he makes. Mei being impressed with the construction of his prosthetics made him swell with pride and he put on a show of it.

Seeing her laugh and smile warmed his heart. He’d seen her smile and laugh before, but before tonight, it’d never been in his direction. He took advantage of the opportunity and complimented her, and it delighted him to see her blush and grow flustered in response. She's so cute, it makes his heart melt. He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, seeing her like that. He wanted to make her smile more often.

They moved on to talking about canteens. He was pretty happy that, despite all of the accusations and assumptions she had made about him early on, being an alcoholic was not one of them. Symmetra was one of the people who made that assumption. She was the only one who had actually voiced it to him, but he'd caught Tracer and Winston’s faces twisting slightly in disgust or disappointment. Surprisingly, Zarya had given him a snort and a look of amusement instead. It still bothered him.

It also bothered him that his boner and his thirst for more of her blood hadn't diminished in the slightest since lapping at that small cut. He was starting to reach his limit for how much he could handle in one night. As much as he was enjoying the conversation, he needed to leave. 

They said their goodbyes, but when Mei hesitated in saying “Junkrat,” it made him hesitate, too. He could tell she didn't like saying his junker nickname. He started telling her she didn't have to call him that, but he stopped himself. _It's too risky. Even though we’re on good terms now, I still don't know if I can trust her._ So he waved it off as nothing and resumed his leave.

She was persistent. He really did want to tell her, but he wasn't sure this was the right time. He would proceed with as much caution as he could. Though her voice wavered, the look in her sweet brown eyes as she promised she could keep a secret convinced him it was okay to tell her. Even so, he wanted to make sure he got his point across, so he drew up close to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He realized it was a mistake as soon as he did, because she was so warm and he could feel her pulse through his skin. It made him hyper aware of her beating heart and her veins, which he could practically see and hear now. Her smell was intoxicating at this distance, too, but he was stubborn, and he wasn’t going to rescind his act of seriousness so soon. That would defeat the point. He fixed his eyes stubbornly on her own. _Don’t you fuckin’ dare look down._ He gave her permission to use his name, and he was about to call it good for the night, but… There was something else bothering him.

His blood was moving at a snail’s pace in his veins, cold and thick with the effort and determination he was putting into holding himself back, trying not to think about or look at her neck, trying not to squeeze Mei’s shoulders too hard, and willing his fangs to stay small. His blood was running cold with fear. He needed to tell her that he’d probably lose it again in the future. He was pretty sure he could keep it together for the time being since he was well fed, but missions could very well be a different story.

He needed to tell her how to stop him, how to defend herself. He couldn’t risk telling her what he was, though. Not yet, anyway.

She looked absolutely torn after he told her where to aim an ice spike. Oh, that sad, fearful look in her eyes broke something in him. He reassured her because he wanted her to stop looking so frightened. How could he tell her that he’d be okay, though, when he couldn’t in his right mind tell her he was a vampire? He knew she didn’t believe the radiation thing. So he went back to that idea he’d had earlier and implied to her that he’s the way he is as a result of his actions in the outback. Which it was partially true. Digging in the Omnium had landed him a treasure that suddenly everyone wanted, including those damned Talon vampires.

 _Shit, mate, didn’t work. She still looks torn up. Hell, I’ve fucked this up roight well, haven’t I? Okay, last resort._ He wouldn't admit that he was in love, but there was no point in hiding how much he cared about her. His fear on the mission had already betrayed him on that front…

So before she could object, he interrupted her with a hug. Hugs are comforting, right? Sure, it was an awkward A-frame hug because of the height difference, and while it sucked that it put his face in such close proximity to her neck, it kept his painful erection from making contact with her. And then he told her how he felt. And it bloody worked. There was still doubt in her eyes as he pulled away, but he got her to promise that she would do whatever it took to defend herself.

It took a load of worry off his shoulders. Even though she doesn't know what he is, she now knows how to stop him.

And now, he feels free to leave. Each step away from Mei makes the part of him that wants to drink from her itch in annoyance, and he hates it. He wishes he could blow the needy bloodsucking monster inside of himself to smithereens. To the human part of him that cares about her well being, each step away is immensely relieving, and right now that outweighs his thirst.

There’s another part of him that still desperately needs relief, though, and he gets to taking care of it as soon as he's back in the comfort of his own, messy, booby trapped, petrol-scented room. He considers doing it in the coffin, but decides against it. Contrary to popular belief, he _did_ like sleeping in clean places. They just never stayed clean for very long. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to keep his new coffin relatively clean. He had lined it with sheets, but there was no way he’d be able to cover or clean the lid. So he sets down his glass of boba tea and flops on his bed, which had been left in his room in case he felt uncomfortable sleeping in the coffin, and quickly undoes his belt and trousers. A sigh of relief escapes him as he springs free.

He had gotten used to masturbating very quickly and quietly in his time in the outback. Getting caught with your pants down could be a death sentence, and he’d had enough close calls to make him paranoid about it. Henceforth, he had never made it very far beyond kissing and feeling up, but there was one time he had to bargain to get out of a tough spot. The sheila who had it out for him was feeling generous that day and allowed him to pay her back by giving her a blow job. Desperate times call for desperate measures, eh? But now was not a desperate time, and so he would savor this. He begins stroking himself languidly.

It wasn’t his first time picturing Mei while rubbing one out, but it was definitely the first time he didn’t feel ashamed about it. Getting a taste of her blood and smelling her arousal certainly didn't help matters, either. _She’s the one who did this t’me. S’all her fault for puttin’ that picture in me head._

He imagined her in her blue tank top; it would show off her pillowy breasts, and the narrow waist that was normally hidden by her coats and baggy sweatshirts, and how that narrow waist would transition so smoothly into her wide, luscious hips. She’d be staring up at him with her warm doe-eyes, a red blush coloring her cheeks. She’d say his name - his real name _-_ in her cute voice, and then he’d whisper her name back. He’d be frozen to the spot, waiting for her to make the first move so that he could be sure it was truly what _she_ wanted. She would kiss him when she’s ready, and because of it, the kiss would be all the more rewarding when it finally happens. And she _would_ do it eventually; she’s the one who imagined it happening, after all.

She’d be all nervous and flustered after that first kiss, but he would pull her into a second kiss and this one would last longer. She’d relax into it and let out a cute little moan when his tongue would find its way into her mouth. He'd love the sounds she made. His hands would settle on the curve of her waist and they would lazily explore her body. Her hands would do some of their own exploring, over the hard planes of his front and back, and they’d eventually travel lower, down below his waistband, and she’d find him, hard and straining. The brush of her soft fingers would draw a moan from him, and she’d like his reaction and do it again. He’d trail kisses down along her neck and collarbone and tell her in between them how mad she drives him. Her scent would be utterly intoxicating to him.

He’d brush his hand down under between her legs then, and find that sensitive little bud. She’d gasp in surprise and he’d give her more, deftly working his fingers to draw those delicious moans from her. Oh, he’d pleasure her to her heart’s content. He’d _kneel_ for her, and lather on his affections until she was sated.

He wouldn’t be expecting anything in return; being able to praise her with his tongue would be more than satisfying in itself. But she would surprise him, and she’d wrap her soft hands around him. Those soft hands would feel amazing compared with his own hands: one cold, hard, and metal, and the other, calloused and rough. But she wouldn’t stop there; she’d lean down and lick stripes up and down his length and across his head, and it would blow his mind. He didn’t actually know what it felt like for another’s mouth to be down there, but he knew that it felt pretty good to have some kind of lubrication, so his estimation of receiving a blow job was pretty high. He imagined her wet lips wrapping around his head, and she’d start working over him in earnest. This line of thinking is what eventually does him in, and he can’t help the strangled cry that wrenches its way out of his throat as the almost unbearable heat of teetering on the edge morphs into blinding pleasure when his release lances through him.

“Hooley dooley,” is all he can manage to say as his left hand flops limply down by his side. When he finally manages to collect himself, the white fluid painting his stomach and chest is already cooling and becoming sticky, and he grimaces. _Ya dipstick, how come you never have a rag or somethin’ handy?_

He gets up grudgingly, and shuffles over to the small bathroom at the back of his room. Even though he can see just fine in the dark, he turns on the lights as he steps inside the space. To the left of him is the unused shower, to the right, a sink with a mirrored cabinet above it, and in front of him, a grimy toilet with the seat perpetually propped up. He’d be needing that toilet soon, but he headed over to the sink first.

It never failed to jar him when he saw no reflection in the mirror. The outback never had any mirrors, and it surprised him the first time he’d been near a reflective surface. It was in Sydney. He and Mako had been walking through the streets, ignoring the looks the civvies were giving them, and then they’d walked by a particularly glassy building. Roadhog was the one who noticed it, because he had turned to talk to Junkrat, who was in between him and the building, and pointed out that something was wrong with the reflection. It was at that point that he himself turned to face the reflective glass, only to see that it was just Mako and the civvies in the reflection. He was missing. _What kinda fucked up world takes away so much from a person that it also nicks their reflection?_ What did he even look like? He hadn’t seen his own face since he was an ankle biter. He had an idea from the wanted posters, but wanted posters always got something wrong.

He grabs the dirty washcloth from its hook, wets it, and runs it over his stomach. There. Now it’s not sticky anymore. Still covered in engine grease, but that’s a good thing.

He looks back into the bathroom mirror, and seeing only the wall behind him makes him irate. It’s a cruel reminder of what he is. A reminder of what he shouldn’t be. A reminder that he shouldn’t exist. He doesn’t belong in this world. Not anymore. Not since he died in that Talon base.

He doesn't belong.

He shouldn't be here in Overwatch. He's a monster. Everyone close to him eventually suffers or dies. Sometimes he swears he's cursed. Hog is resilient and has been able to hold up well so far, but Junkrat wonders if even he has a limit. What is Mei’s limit? Would she run away or avoid him if she found out he's a vampire? A bitter part of himself hoped she would. _But what if she found out and it didn't stop her from wanting to get to know me better? How close would Snowflake try to get to me? Am I going be the death of her, too?_ Would he murder her in a blood rage?

 _Fuck_ , _what if she wants to become a vampire?_ _Is she even a virgin? Oh fucks sake, what if she isn’t, but still wants to be with me? Is she gonna torment me with that sweet blood of hers until the day she dies? Come to think of it, everyone I know here is gonna be dead eventually. They’re gonna grow old and I’m gonna fuckin’ stay the same and outlive them. I never thought I’d grow old, but I didn’t mean it like this! I’ll be all alone. Fuck, I don’t wanna be all alone!_ His grip on the edges of the sink tightens, and small fractures form in the porcelain enamel. _Okay, okay, so what if she is a virgin? I gotta keep her that way, otherwise vampire is not an option. Damn it, I can’t root her! Fuuuuck I can’t believe I just let myself imagine her so vividly. After that, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get her outta me head._

He’s salivating heavily by this point, and knows even before his gut wrenches painfully that he needs to get to the toilet. He kneels down in front of the once white porcelain and his hands find a spot on its rim as he retches. He’s probably done this hundreds of times throughout his life. It never gets any better. _I fuckin’ hate this._ Soon enough his boba tea is in the toilet, and he scowls. _Every fuckin’ time I try to eat human food. Why can’t I just enjoy it like I used to? Why can’t I piss or shit it out? Why’s it gotta be chunder? Why do I even bother?_ **_Oh yeah_ ** _, because I miss bein’ human!_

Soon enough he’s standing up and flushing the mess down the dirty bowl, and then making his way to the coffin in the middle of the room. _No point in waking up Roadie, he wont wanna talk this late at night. Maybe Sombra?_

He sits in the Overwatch-branded coffin, with his knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His head rests dejectedly on his knees. “Sombra? You got a moment?” he asks the empty room. There was a long period of silence as he waited, and eventually he couldn’t stand his thoughts anymore, so busied himself with taking off his prosthetic leg. “Maybe she’s busy.”

As if in response to his disappointed comment, she appears in a wave of glitched out purple. He was more used to it by now, and hardly reacted beyond looking at her. “Noope! Not busy.” She says with a smirk. It changes to a frown though when she notices his posture. Not that it was ever very good to begin with, but right now it just screams, ‘help me.’ “Hey, Rata, what’s got you down?”

“Whattaya do when there’s a human ya don’t wanna hurt, but suddenly they’ve gone from hatin’ ya to tryin’ t’get closer to ya?” His eyes lock on to Sombra’s, and realization flashes across her mind.

“Does somebody have a little crush? How cuute!” At that, Junkrat glares up at her with fire blazing in his eyes. “Sorry, sorry.” She holds up her hands in apology, and then gets serious. “Okay, first off, do they know you’re a vampire?”

He might have been upset and angry before, but now his anxiety is returning. “W-well, I don’t think so. But she’s suspicious. I don’t think she believes what Roadie and I have been saying about the radiation. The sheila’s real smart, but she’s a scientist, so whatever she’s theorizin’, it probably isn’t vampire. Beyond that, I really don’t know.” He was rambling. “Hehe, maybe I should go ask her what she’s thinkin’, yeah? Maybe--”

“Rata. You need to tell her. Sitting here waiting for her to come up with some quack explanation and then living in the shadow of that lie is gonna kill you. You know what won't kill you? Her running away from you, or better yet, her accepting it. Seemed to work alright with your big friend, and with angel lady. Hell, if anyone would be _against_ undead, it would be someone who takes after an angel. Religious crap and all that.”

There’s a faint blush on Junkrat’s cheeks. “O-oh… roight… and uh, what should I do in the meantime? Everyone else is asleep and between the sheila and all the damned voices in me head, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to catch any shut-eye.”

Sombra raised an eyebrow at him. “Voices?”

“Yeah, ya taught me how to read blood mem’ries and how to hear the spirits I’ve eaten, remembah? Well, I’m awake in the first place because they wouldn’t shut up. Surrounded me like coppers in me dreams and screamed at me.”

“Ohohoho yeah! Memories are read one at a time, so if you were seeing people all together, you were probably interacting with the spirits instead. I don’t remember teaching you how to hear them, though. I just told you it was possible. Congratulations! You’re making lots of progress!” She was entirely too cheerful for Junkrat’s liking.

“How do I make ‘em shut up?” He said snappishly.

“Easy, Rata. Probably the best thing to try first is a distraction. Maybe I can teach you something new to practice. If that doesn’t work, focus on one spirit. Focus really hard on them. Maybe try speaking with them. Everyone else might quiet down, then.”

He didn’t know if he was ready to try her second method. He figured Oliver would be a good spirit to start with, but even after almost three years he was still too damaged from the event of Oliver's death to face him and talk with him.

He guesses Sombra read his mind when she answers for him, “Distraction it is. You said you don’t want to harm the woman? You’re afraid of losing control of yourself, si?”

“...yeah, that’s roight.” He felt shame burning him up, and found he couldn’t meet Sombra’s violet gaze. Losing control was his biggest fear, and she just hit the nail on the head.

She crouches down to his level. “Hey, I’m here to tell you there are ways to make it less likely to happen.”

Junkrat is wary. The last time she taught him something, it ended up in nightmares and running into Mei. Of course, there was no way Sombra could have seen _that_ coming, but he still blamed it on her. Still, what Sombra is offering right now sounds really promising. “Show me.”

She pulls out a silvery knife, and his eyes widen. “Sombra?”

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even there, remember? Just watch.” She strips off one of her fancy gloves and draws the silver blade across her palm. Scentless red runs from the wound and forms a puddle on the floor. As soon as the puddle grows to a decent size, she places her injured palm into the puddle. Junkrat has to lean over the edge of the coffin to see it. The puddle shrinks beneath her palm until she lifts it back up off the ground, leaving the floor as blood free as it had been originally. She holds up her palm, which is now sealed up. “Voila!”

If Junkrat’s jaw could be on the floor, that’s where it would be right now. “Wha..? How???”

“Using your mouth isn’t the only way to drink blood.” Junkrat remembers seeing the empty blood bag hanging in the medibay above him when he woke up and understands. He had been taking in blood through a needle that time. “Seems like you already get it! Shouldn’t be too hard for you to figure out, then. You know what they say, though: practice makes perfect! If you need anything else, mi volantón, let me know. Until then,” she leans forward and taps her finger on his nose, though it never makes contact. “Boop,” and with a flurry of purple pixels, she vanishes, and he’s alone once again.

He digs out a knife, and starts practicing with determination.

 

* * *

 

_\- Morning Meeting, 8:00 AM -_

 

When Mei walked into the briefing room, she was surprised to see Jamison already there. Normally he’d be the last person there, but today was apparently an exception. His posture was tired, though. Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night either? She felt a little warm at the thought.

She felt even warmer when he perked up and a smile spread across his face as he noticed her. “G’day, Snowflake!” It was radiant and chipper, but something about it felt a little off. _Is he nervous?_

“Good morning, Ja-” She almost said his real name and there was a spark of warning in his eyes until she corrected herself. “Junkrat.” She felt her cheeks warm up in embarrassment, and she quickly hurried to her seat further forward in the room, next to Zarya.

“早上好，Zarya,” she said hurriedly.

“доброе утро, Mei. You okay? He bother you?” The pink haired woman makes a vague nod in Junkrat’s direction.

“No!” _Damn it, you responded too quickly. You’re being suspicious._ “E-everything’s fine. I was just surprised there was no teasing today,” she finished with an uneasy smile.

Zarya knew something was up but before she could ask, Winston called everyone’s attention.

“Thank you everyone for being here on time. We have a few things I’d like to cover today. First and foremost, we have two new recruits arriving on base later today. I would like if you all could be in the hangar at 15 hundred hours to give them a warm welcome.”

 _New recruits?_ Everyone was either thinking this or whispering it to their neighbors. _“I wonder who they could be…” “Do you think they’re nice?” “I wonder where their specialities lie?”_

“Alright, alright, settle down. You’ll get your questions answered soon enough. We have other business to attend to.” He pulled up a holographic screen with an image of a cowboy on it. “This is former agent Jesse McCree. He has recently reached out to me in search of help in dismantling a Talon presence in the southwest of the United States. Following the mission, he will be joining up with our organization. Now, he has given me some specifics on what he has found out about the Talon base…”

That’s about when Junkrat lost interest and focus in the meeting. The details didn’t really matter all too much until he got there, anyway. Instead, he found himself gazing dreamily at Mei from across the room. _I’ve got a trick up me sleeve this time, Snowflake. I ain’t gonna go off on ya on missions no more._ He continues to relish in the victories of last night.

Sure, he didn't like hurting himself over and over, but if mastering the reabsorption of blood meant that injuries would cease to be so damning, then he would do it until he was a pro. He didn't use a silver knife like Sombra did, because he knew it would leave visible scars that wouldn't disappear until at least the next evening. Unfortunately that also meant that the wounds he _did_ create closed up quickly, so most times he was unable to reabsorb the blood before the wound healed. So he'd lap up the remaining blood and then try again. _Well, you know what they say; takes a lickin’, keeps on tickin’!_ Eventually he got to a point where he could reabsorb nearly all of the blood from the wound he created before it sealed up. Maybe he could get it perfect in the next week or two.

Roadie nudged him in the side. _Roight, gotta pay attention._ “...nature of the mission, Junkrat, Roadhog, Tracer, Symmetra, Dr. Ziegler and myself will be meeting with Agent McCree. We’ll discuss our tactics in greater detail later when we rendezvous with him. Reinhardt, Mei-Ling, Zarya, Bastion, and Torbjörn, your attendance on this mission is optional. We will need at least one of you on guard here during the mission, and someone to supervise the new recruits. To conclude, the new recruits will be arriving today at 15 hundred hours, and the mission team will be leaving at 19 hundred hours, after dinner. I advise you to pack your gear sooner rather than later. Dismissed.”

They all got up from their seats, and as Jamison looked over in Mei’s direction, he remembered what he had resolved to do earlier that morning, and grew nervous. Sombra had a good point, but he was still worried. She glanced up at him. _Shit!_ He turned his gaze away quickly and he felt his face heat up. _Later, I'll tell her later._ He busied himself with leaving the room. Perhaps a little too hurriedly.

Roadhog noticed Rat’s haste, and saw that Mei was equally flustered. _Cute._ He didn't comment on it.

Rat left quickly, but Roadhog decides to take his time. He passively observes Mei through the anonymous lenses of his mask, curious to see what she might do. Rat had mentioned before that her scent really messed with his head, but if she was equally flustered, something might have happened between the two of them. He wouldn't pry, but he was curious to see how things would play out.

He was surprised when Mei approached him. He wasn't so surprised by her nervousness, though; he could be intimidating without even trying. “Hello Mister Roadhog. Sorry to bother you. Do you think you could, um, pass on a message to Junkrat?”

He gave an amused grunt. “Yeah.”

Mei did her best to remain calm. “Can you tell him I need to speak with him? In private?”

This made him laugh. “The fock’d he do this time?”

Mei was very glad Zarya had left the room, because she didn't want it to seem like she liked the dirty man, and she didn't think she could get away with lying to Roadhog. At least, not all the way. “He didn't do anything. Well, nothing bad! I was up late and ran into him, and I had some things I wanted to discuss with him in further detail.”

He wondered what could have transpired last night, but otherwise paid it little mind. As long as what happened between the two of them last night didn't endanger his boss, he wouldn't step in. Their behavior suggested that the two might even be hitting it off, and the gentle, parental part of himself felt happy for Jamison. He figured there wasn't any harm in allowing a one on one meeting with Mei. “You got a time and place in mind?”

“Can you please tell him to meet me at 1:00 in my lab, after lunch?”

He lets out an affirmative grunt and a “You got it,” before hauling himself up and beginning to leave.

“Mister Roadhog?” He turns his head over his shoulder, and waits expectantly. “Thank you."

With one last grunt of acknowledgement, he leaves the briefing room.

 

* * *

 

He had made his way to his workshop, and was currently packing his grenades away in the special cases Winston had provided.

“42… 43… 44…” he counted under his breath. He hadn't always maintained the importance of counting and keeping stock of his explosives, but he felt an odd compulsion these days to do so. When did it start? Was it that time he ran out of grenades in a skirmish back in Oz? _Mate, that was a bad time._ He couldn't remember if counting the grenades was what was important, though, or if his goal at the time was just to make more.

He was so focused on his task that he hardly noticed the sound of the workshop door sliding open. “56… 57… 58…”

“Rat.”

He jerks in surprise, fumbling for a moment with the grenade he was holding. “Mate, what the fuck? Give a bloke more warning when they're handling explosives!”

“Thought your hearin’ was real good these days.”

He can't argue with that, but he still lets out a growl of frustration. “What is it?”

“Mei wants to talk.”

He tries to play it off as though nothing happened last night. “Oi mate, am I hearin’ ya correct? The _Ice Queen_ wants to talk with dirty ol’ _me?_ ”

The amused snort that Roadhog gives is enough to tell him he didn't fall for it. “1:00, her lab. Don't fock it up. I'll drop by with your lunch at 12:45 to remind you.”

He can't believe what he's hearing. He never thought Mei would reach out first. Not like this, anyway. _Shit, she even had the balls to approach Roadie about it!_ “Alright, ta mate.” He turns his attention back to the case of explosives he was packing. “Shit, what number was I on, Roadie?”

“Dunno.”

“Damn it, mate, now I gotta start all ovah!” He dumps the contents of the case haphazardly on the floor.

“Careful wit those!” Torbjörn shouts from across the workshop. “I don't want me workshop blown up again!”

“They ain't gonna blow! Not unless Oi want ‘em to!”

“Still don't trust it,” Torbjörn grumbled under his breath. Junkrat still heard him, and he grumbles some profanities of his own before restarting the count.

“1… 2… 3… 4…”

Regret and doubt swirl in his mind. He got thrown back into this mess with Mei because of last night, and now he's stuck in the pit he dug himself. _Why did I have to make me bloody boba tea last night?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 早上好 - Zǎoshang hǎo - good morning  
> доброе утро - dobroye utro - good morning
> 
> I made a tumblr! You can find it here: https://zephyrelf3.tumblr.com/
> 
> The next update may take a while, because school work is starting to get a little crazy, and I'm also starting another fic, but this is not abandoned and will be updated eventually! Thank you for sticking around :)


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